#frontline club

[foundfootageromcom]

Found myself explaining the concept of "seapunk" (& the iron grip it once had on internet weirdos of my particular demographic) 2 my fuckin zoomer boyfriend yesterday (he'd NEVER heard of it) .......life comes @ ya FAST lmfaoo

[redcarpet-streetstyle]

[fightforthesoulofthecities]

Voices from the Frontlines & Strategy & Soul Theater Presents: The Old Oak directed by Ken Loach

[vc_row][vc_column][vc_column_text] Voices from the Frontlines & Strategy and Soul Theater presents  The Old Oak Directed by Ken Loach  Thursday April 11th at 6pm  Strategy & Soul Theater 3546 Martin Luther King Blvd. Los Angeles CA 90008 We want to thank Emily Russo Co-President of Zeitgeist Films for making the connection between Eric and the Strategy Center team and Ken Loach and his film…

[totaly-obsessed]

Omg omg omg i have an idea

r is the team baby and mapi is like a big sister to her

it’s gameday and mapi always braids readers hair before a match, but with mapis injury, she can’t do it. So Aitana takes the role of being your big sister and helps you with everything,

Changes

Barcelona Femení x reader request

-> With Mapi injured, your usual plan gets changed

-> Very short! I hope you like it - was very fun to throw something quick and small together

-> Little pt.2 - On the Road

➳ Masterlist

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

It was weird.

Ever since joining the team last season, Mapi had been a constant in your everyday life, and one day to the next, she was gone. She didn’t die, duh, but she was injured. And while a lot of people on the team injured themselves or sometimes just had to sit out – never Mapi.

She had taken you under her wing as soon as she saw you, but her plan of making you her accomplice didn’t work, as you were much too introverted to embarrass yourself in public like she intended to do.

Ingrid had always just scoffed at her girlfriend whenever she had sent you on a wild goose chase for something completely made up, while Maria would laugh at you. The Norwegian was always quick to solve the mysteries, pressing soft kisses on your forehead whenever you got annoyed, ignoring her girlfriend until she stopped.

While everyone on the team was great friends, even a family, the relationship between you and Mapi was just different and everybody knew that – which is also why everybody could see just how much it affected you that your favorite defender wasn’t there. Especially when you were in the starting eleven.

Ingrid had religiously been updating her girlfriend, reassuring her that you were in fact totally fine and not freaking out. But you weren’t fine.

The girls tried to help where they could – Lucy and Keira had picked you up from home, Pina sat next to you on the bus (Patri and Ona behind you, making for a very funny ride), Jana and Bruna had made you a new playlist that you were all listening to and Alexia did what she did best – she observed and helped when needed.

In the changing room, most things took their natural course as every girl had their slightly different routine and needs before a game.

You were so incredibly nervous. Making the starting eleven was big, especially for a club like Barcelona, but the team for the day was quite experienced, calming you down just a little. Esme looked just as nervous as you, she was a striker alongside you, making for a very young frontline.

Aitana saw you brushing your hair again and again and again, just to do absolutely nothing with it, just patting your own head in a calming manner. After three minutes she took pity – remembering that your older sister figure wasn’t there.

“No need to rip out hair Cari. Let me do it.”

The entire team had affectionally started to call you Cari in your first season – it was short for cariño, and you loved it.

As still as humanly possible you sat in your cubby, letting the ballon d'or winner do her thing, sometimes handing her a brush, a ponytail holder, or a bobby pin.

“I can’t do it like Maria, so I did something else. Do you like it, Cari?” She indeed had done a different hairstyle, but it was still braided out of your face and it looked cute.

“It’s perfect Tana, thank you!” The brunette couldn’t help but smile, seeing you come to life just a little more after such a simple action from her. In thanks you kissed her cheek, squeaking when Sandra poked you into your side, making all three of you laugh.

“Let me help you with your shirt.” The goalkeeper didn’t even wait for an answer, helping you tuck your shirt inside of the shorts – just like Mapi would do for you. “Thank you!”

Now you felt much more prepared and ready to take on FC Rosengård.

Walking in, instead of a mascot's hands you were holding Lucy’s who smiled at you so brightly that you couldn’t be sad anymore. “You’ll do her proud kid – don’t worry.”

The Brit had indeed been right. Mapi had been close to tears sitting next to Frido in the stands, as you scored an amazing goal in the second half, dedicating it to her, as you sprinted over to where they sat, pressing a kiss to your palm, and practically throwing it at her.

“Look at my sister!”

[thinkwosolife23]

She needs you, Alessia Russo

Today was one of the biggest games, if not the biggest game of the season.

As an Arsenal player, playing Chelsea has to be the most fustrating game to play. More importantly as a defender, you have the task of keeping Sam Kerr quiet. Even with Leah by your side, it can be extremely difficult. Despite being your rival, you have the upmost respect for the Chelsea team and all of there players, they are a talented side but that means they bring out the best in you. But it's got to the point where everyone almost expects Arsenal to lose, like we don't even put up a fight against them.

You've played Chelsea many times over the 3 years you have been at Arsenal, your win ratio isn't exactly ideal. You can count on one hand how many times you've actually beat them.

However, Arsenal have made some big changes and improvements this season. With the new signings and players returning from injury, you were hopefull, really hopefull that you could win,

One of the new signings just happened to be your fiance. You and Alessia had known each other since you were about 13 through the England youth teams.

When you were 18, you had made the venture to move to America to go to University and play for North Carolina Tar Heels. Alessia had also made the move, meaning the two of you became a lot closer. Eventually that lead to a relationship when your were both 19.

In 2020, you signed for Arsenal and Alessia had signed for Manchester United. The distance was difficult for the both of you, it definatly challenged your strength as a couple. But it mad you cherish the time you did have together even more.

You had proposed to Alessia in the iddle of Wembley stadium when you had just won the Euros, you couldn'y have thought of a better time to do it. Thankfully, she said yes.

You were over the moon when your soon to be wife decided to join Arsenal. Obviously, you knew that the choice was difficult for Alessia and you knew how much she loved her United. But you couldn't be happier knowing that for both club and country, you get to play alongside the love of your life. You had the hope that Alessia was exactly what Arsenal needed to beat Chelsea.

Anyways, the Arsenal coach had just arrived at Emirates Stadium.

Before your warm up, you had chance to go onto the field to do the pitch check, to speak with some of the Chelsea players and have time with your own teammates.

After talking to Millie and Lauren, two of your fellow Lionesses, you and Alessia began walking around the pitch looking for your families in the quickly filling stadium.

"How you feeling, love?" You asked Alessia as she began tracing patterns on your hand whilst you were walking along, somethin she usually did when she was nervous.

"I'm good." She told you, her voice not at all convincing.

"C'mon Less, you know you don't have to lie to me."

"I'm just a bit nervous, that's all. It's a big game, there's so much pressure."

"Forget about the nerves, the pressures. I have no doubt that you'll be amazing because you always are. My stargirl."

By now, the two of you had stopped walking around. You had pulled Alessia into a hug, lightly kissing her temple, her head resting in your neck.

"I love you"

"I love you too"

Before long, you were stood in the tunnel waiting for both teams to walk out. You always were last in the line, it became an almost ritual for you now. You and Katie were messing around as usual, laughing at something one of the mascots had said.

Arsenal Starting 11:

GK - M. Zinsberger LB - K. McCabe CB - L. Williamson CB - Y/N. Y/LN RB - S. Catley CDM - L. Walti CM - K. Little (C) LW - C. Foord CF - V. Meidama RW - B. Mead ST - A. Russo

Chelsea Starting 11:

GK - Z. Musovic LB - A. Lawrence CB - M. Bright (C) CB - J. Carter RB - N. Charles CDM - S. Ingle CDM - E. Cuthbert CAM - F. Kirby LW - G. Reiten ST - S. Kerr RW - L. James

The game was fairly even at both ends. You and Leah had an amzing partnership at the back which the Chelsea frontline were currently struggling to get by.

At the other end of the pitch, our fowards were doing a really good job of testing Musovic in goal but nothing had managed to get past her.

Until…

45+2' Alessia Russo Goal (A: Y/N Y/LN)

You had sent a long ball from the halfway line, which managed to go ever the Chelsea back line and reach Alessia who kicked it into the back of the net.

She ran over too you and jumped, wrapping her arms around your neck and her legs around your waist.

In the second half, Chelsea brought a tougher energy. The players were acting way harsher towards the Arsenal players, way harsher than they were in the first half. Their tackles were higher, the shoulder barges were stronger and the shirt pulls were far more occurent.

However, even by the 80th minute, you still were in the lead. You and Leah had made no mistakes at the back, the Chelsea frontline couldn't even get a proper shot off without one of you making the crucial tackle or block.

Leading to this moment. Chelsea had a corner in the 83rd minute due to you blocking a Sam Kerr shot.

At Chelsea, you knew that they either aimed for Sam's head or Millie's. They would always aim for one of them two.

You were currently in the main mix of people in the box. You were glued to Millie's side, doing your upmost to mean that the ball didn't go in the back of the Arsenal net.

Guro's delivery was impeccable, the ball heading straight fo the mix of blue and red in the box.

You jumped up to try and deter the ball when you felt something a lot harder than the ball in the side of your head.

Everyone in the stadium watched as Sam Kerr's Boot connected with the side of your head, sending you limp on the floor.

The Arsenal players in shock when you didn't get back up like you usually did. Play was immediatly stopped when you were face down on the ground, not moving.

Your teamates headed in multiple different directions. Some members of both teams gathered round your unmoving state to give you privacy whilst waiting for the medics. Alessia and Katie headed stright for Sam's direction in an angrily manor, whereas Leah and Steph wher among some wsho where straight by your side.

Leah, slowly and carefully began to roll you over so you were on your back. Players faces screwed up in horror as your face was covered in blood, which was now all over your shirt.

"C'mon Y/N, I need you to wake up now." Leah said, whilst scanning your face to see if there was any sort of response.

Alessia's fustration towards Sam had took her attention, her mind thinking you would be up by now. In the midst of it all, she hadn't noticed how you were still on the ground.

Your eyes slowly flickered open, shocked at the amount of light you were faced with. The pain in the side of your head was unlike anything you had ever felt with.

"Less?" Your voice barely scraped a whisper as all you needed was your lover by your side.

"Give us a minute, love. She's on her way."

Leah darted her eyes to Alessia's direction, to see her still going at Sam, emphisizing her fustrations and anger.

Katie had now noticed your state, realising it was way more serious than anyone had anticipated. And was now trying to help Beth steer Alessia away from Sam. Alessia wasn't ever the type to get in shouting matches but everyone knew that you were each others weak spot.

"Less, stop! You've had your say, now leave it!" Beth's unexpectedly firm voice slightly startled Alessia. Meaning her and Katie could pull her away.

"Alessia, she needs you." Katie's words made her turn around to realise that you were still on the floor, blood dripping from your head, with Leah and the medics by your side.

Alessia made little time in rushing over to your side, guilt swarming her as she let her anger overwhelm her.

"Baby, i'm sorry. I'm here now." Alessia said, taking your hand in hers. Watching on as you drifted in and out of conciousness.

The medics were quick to get you on the stretcher and off the pitch to get you properly treated.

The players and stadium erupted in claps as you were took off the pitch and down into the tunnel, towards the medical room.

There was a significant amount of extra time in the match due to your injury, but the players concentration wasn't on the match anymore. It was on whether or not you were okay.

Alessia couldn't even think straight, let alone play a match. As soon as the final whistle went, Alessia disregarded all the usual expectations of post-match and ran down the tunnel to find where you were.

The confusion flooded Alessia as she approached the medical room. Your laugh could be heard from the outside of the room.

Alessia quickly swung the door open to be met with sight of you on the medical bed with pading and bandages covering the side of your head.

"Oh my, Babe your awake." Alessia said as she saw you, her body instantly relaxed a bit.

"Babe?" Your face crumpled up in confusion and so did Alessia's as your reaction to her wasn't what she expected.

She quickly directed her look to the staff on the room who were fast to reassure her that you were quite dosed up on medication.

"I have a wife, you know." You told her factually, crossing your arms over your chest.

"Ohh do you now?" Alessia had to hold in her laugh, but her eyes also softened at what you had just said.

"Yeah, she's so beautiful. The most beautifulest girl ever."

Alessia did now actually laugh at the word you had just created.

"Can you tell me what your name is? Just so I can go and get your wife, I'm sure she would want to know that your okay." Alessia tried to go along with your words, hoping you'd eventually realise that your fiance was stood in front of you.

"Y/N Russo." You told Alessia confidently.

Alessia eyes watered at your confession but she soon thought that the best thing was to just turn around and show you the back of her shirt.

"So you stole her shirt and now your trying to steal her wife."

"Right, love, listen. I am Alessia. Your my fiance, we're not married yet."

"Ohhhhh." You said, the realisation of your confusion finally hitting you.

Alessia came and sat on the bed next to you. You moved over so she could lay down meaning you could rest your head on her chest. Your hands wrapping tightly around her waist as hers lightly rubbed your back.

"I quite like the sound of Y/N Russo, though."

[brookghaib-blog]

Whispers of the past

Pairing: Hoshina Soshiro x reader

an: I will be turning this into a story, but i'm still navegating into the turn this will take, i'll warn that this will be more interesting in pt.2, I just wanted to give u a little something :)

Summary: Vice Captain Hoshina Soshiro reminisces about his high school days with his lost love, Y/N, who went missing under mysterious circumstances. As he stands on the frontline, memories of their time together haunt him, fueling his determination to protect others and never give up hope.

pt.2

--

Hoshina's pov:

The city lay in ruins, the aftermath of the kaiju attack evident in every shattered building and scorched street. As Vice Captain of the Japan Defense Force, it was my duty to remain vigilant, to lead my team with unwavering resolve. But in the quiet moments between battles, my mind often wandered to a time when life was simpler and love felt eternal.

We were high school sweethearts, Y/N and I. She was the light in my life, her laughter a melody that could brighten even the darkest days. I still remember the first time I saw her, standing by the school gates with a book in her hand, her eyes sparkling with curiosity and warmth.

"Hey, you're in my chemistry class, right?" I had approached her, trying to sound casual despite the nervous flutter in my chest.

She looked up, a smile spreading across her face. "That's right. You're Hoshina Soshiro, the kendo club captain."

"Yeah," I replied, scratching the back of my head. "I was wondering if you wanted to study together sometime. You seem really smart, and I could use all the help I can get."

She laughed, a sound that would become my favorite in the world. "Sure, I'd love to. How about after school today?"

From that moment on, we were inseparable. We spent countless hours studying together, sharing our dreams and fears, finding comfort in each other's presence. Our favorite spot was the old cherry blossom tree in the school courtyard, where we'd sit and watch the petals fall like snow, lost in our own world.

"Soshiro," Y/N said one afternoon, her head resting on my shoulder as we lay beneath the tree. "Do you ever wonder what the future holds for us?"

I squeezed her hand, drawing strength from her touch. "I do. And I know that whatever happens, as long as we're together, we'll be okay."

She smiled, her eyes filled with a mixture of hope and uncertainty. "Promise me we'll always be there for each other, no matter what."

"I promise," I whispered, sealing our vow with a kiss.

But then, one day, she was gone. Vanished without a trace, leaving a gaping hole in my heart. The days turned into weeks, the weeks into months, and still, there was no sign of her. I threw myself into my training, hoping that by becoming stronger, I could somehow find her, protect her, bring her back.

Years passed, and I rose through the ranks to become Vice Captain, my dedication to the Japan Defense Force unwavering. But the memory of Y/N never faded. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw her smile, heard her laughter, felt the warmth of her hand in mine.

As I stood among the ruins, the weight of my responsibilities heavy on my shoulders, I couldn't help but wonder where she was, if she was safe, if she thought of me as often as I thought of her. The not knowing was the hardest part, the uncertainty that gnawed at my soul.

But I held onto hope, clung to the belief that one day, I would find her. Until then, I would fight. For her, for the promise we made, for the future we dreamed of under the cherry blossom tree.

"Y/N," I whispered into the night, the stars above a silent witness to my vow. "I'll find you. No matter how long it takes, no matter where you are, I'll bring you back."

And as the city began to rebuild, as the battle against the kaiju continued, I carried her memory with me, a beacon of light guiding me through the darkness.

[randomciabatta724]

Some Polites headcanons because they're good for the soul.

Note: these are a mix of details from the musical I wanted to expand on, stuff I've read from other posts, and things I randomly came up with.

He was in the frontlines (or at least near them) during the Trojan war. Not because he wanted to fight, he just thought "if I have to join the battle, I'll at least shield those behind me". I took this from Survive, because he had to be pretty close to Polyphemus to be the first one hit by the club.

Self sacrificial. Very self sacrificial. Would die for the crew, especially for Odysseus and Eurylochus.

Loves dates. Either on their own or with honey. I don't know why, he just gives me the vibe.

Had night terrors both during and after the war. Either nightmares about the people he killed (let's face it, you don't come out of a 10 year war without getting blood on your hands) or his friends dying in battle. Never explicitly told anyone, but he would stay with his friends a little longer the morning after. Also picked a lot more night watch turns as a result, just to get his mind off of things.

Bruises/gets injured extremely easily, and doesn't notice/care. Especially if someone else is hurt too. "Are you alright?" asks Polites to another soldier while coughing up blood.

Also very durable, somehow. That's why Polyphemus had to hit him twice/j.

Myopic king. The glasses are a gift from Athena, because she was like "I think you're a soft-hearted fool, but I'll be damned if you embarrass my Warrior of the Mind because you can't see beyond the bridge of your nose".

The type of person to keep eating horrible/possibly poisoned food just to not offend the person who prepared it. Odysseus had to smack the lotus out of his hand because he would have still taken a bite to not make the lotus eaters upset (he brought some with him anyway, that's where Odysseus got the lotuses to put in the wine).

Many have already said this, he's the therapist friend before therapy was invented.

Gives the best hugs.

Taller than Odysseus but shorter than Eurylochus (Odysseus reaches Polites' chest, Polites reaches Eurylochus' nose).

Apologises when he bumps into furniture. It's a reflex, he doesn't notice he does it. It's a remnant of his pre-glasses days, when he couldn't distinguish a person from a vase.

The ancient Greek equivalent of a Godfather to Telemachus.

Extremely trusting, sometimes a little too much (fun fact: in the Odyssey he's like the first one to enter Circe's palace).

Very forgiving. He gives second, third, even fourth chances like it's nothing, no matter how badly someone hurts him. You have to be pretty forgiving to still think about greeting the world with open arms after being clubbed to death. (Note: this does not apply to his friends getting hurt).

When he takes off his bandana, his curls reach his shoulders and cover his left eye, and it gives him a whole different vibe. He still radiates warmth, but it's not the same. Kinda like the sun at noon and the sun at dusk. The second is still warm and welcoming, but dimmer, softer, maybe a little darker. People have mistaken him for someone else because of this.

Super heavy sleeper. One time when they were younger, Odysseus and Eurylochus decided to try and wake him up by making the most noise possible. They did not succeed.

His first kiss was Eurylochus while Odysseus was away in Sparta to court Penelope.

One time, someone tried to rob him. The guy was like "Give me your money!" and Polites was like "Oh dear, look at you, of course I'll give you my money, you look like you really need it. Also, why don't you come to my house so I can give you some food and clean clothes?". The thief was so ashamed of himself he ran away.

He befriended Charon in the Underworld.

You know the plague that Apollo sent during the Iliad? He may or may not have gotten it, I haven't decided yet.

Considering that in epic the sirens have the ability to shapeshift into loved ones, there was definitely a siren Polites somewhere during Suffering/Different Beast.

He's generally a very calm person, the only thing that really gets him angry is when his friends get hurt. And when he's angry, he's not someone to mess with. He can and will kick ass. And the thing that rubs salt in the wound is that if you get beat up by Polites, it's almost certainly your fault, because Polites isn't the kind of person that goes around randomly beating people up. And very few people wish to carry the title "The person who got beat up by Polites".

SPOILERS AHEAD!!!

The last headcanon is something I've also based a scenario on. Basically, after Odysseus kills the suitors, they go to the Underworld. Most of them are still shaken up by the whole thing, which is understandable, getting shot by an enemy you can't see while unarmed in the dark is not fun, but not Antinous. Antinous is pissed. And so he rallies up the other suitors, he gives a whole speech where he basically says they can get revenge on Odysseus once he joins them there and also reveals all the shit they did while he was gone. And Polites is like, talking to Eurylochus or something, when he overhears. And so he goes to give Antinous the beating of his life because you do **not** disrespect his best friend and his family like that. And the suitors+Eurylochus are watching from a corner, with the suitors getting even more scared.

That's it. Nothing more :)

I know Eurylochus is married to Ctimene but I SHIP HIM AND POLITES SO BAD AAAAAAAAHHHHHH

[nyxi-pixie]

forget should have been at the club heres an inexhaustive list of things teruko should have been doing instead of being on the frontlines

-learning to crawl

-learning to walk

-making bad crayon drawings

-mid day naps

-6pm bed time

-making a pasta necklace

-refusing to eat vegetables

-watching cartoons

-learning to count

-reading picture books

[pauking5]

New Year, New Me

Pairing: Roronoa Zoro x fem reader

Genre: mutual pining, flirting, some jealousy (if you squint), a shitload of banter, teasing

Word count: 5.7k+

A/N: I told you more Zoro is coming 😉 All I'm gonna say is that it's one of my favorites. Might have a part 2 planned but we'll see. Enjoy!

Part 2

The deep bass rocked your body with every move, heart beating in sync with the music blaring from the speakers in the club. Alcohol coursed through your veins, relaxing all your nerves and worries. Only heavens above knew how much you needed this.

To let go of everything for one night.

Especially if that one night was New Year's Eve and you dreaded it a shit ton.

This year was pure torment for you on the love frontline. There were some dates, a lot of situationships and even more failed talking stages.

It felt like your heart was just a hotel for people to stop at for one night. You left the doors wide open for anyone to come in and occupy a room. They would get whatever they wanted from you, whether that was sex or just talking the night away, and leave their trash at your doorstep for you to clean it up as if it was yours.

And it left you emptier and emptier the more you let the latch open.

Not one of them wanted to truly get to know you or let you talk for that matter and it was driving you nuts. You tried hard to convince yourself it wasn't a you problem. It was just hard seeing everyone else so happy and in long-running relationships while you were there struggling to have just one normal conversation with someone.

Before you let it get worse and have another storm wracking your heart you found yourself hitting the club a lot more often. As bad as it was, at least it covered the self-deprecating your sober mind was up to the minute your mouth touched the rim of the glass of mixed alcohol in your hand.

When the city clubs stopped doing it for you, you took to the beach club nearby. The tropical house genre wasn't really your style or the club itself, but it grew on you the more you visited it. Not for the good cocktails or the fun atmosphere the club induced in you. But for the green-haired man sat at the far back of the club that captured your eye.

From the looks of it he was a regular. Every night you were there, he was there too. You didn't think anything of it until it's been a few weeks and he was still present.

The only thing that changed the more you went there was that he took notice of you too.

The most he did was glance your way as you were dancing thinking you wouldn't notice but you caught him every. single. time.

There was something about the way he looked your way that sparked something in you. Every time his eyes laid on you it felt like your body would set on fire and that feeling only grew stronger over time.

He would be the only thing occupying your mind both in your waking hours and the intoxicated ones. Besides the obvious attraction you felt for him there was also this weird sense of connection that drew you to him. You hoped he would make a move to you but all he gave you was that unwavering gaze turning your insides to mush and your head into a mess.

You took it in your hands and decided to make the first move a few weeks ago. It was one of those nights you were feeling the loneliness a little too hard and thought some sort of action would have done you good. You scanned the club for him and found him in his usual spot, nursing a glass of what looked like whiskey.

The moment you set your eyes on him his dark eyes lifted from the glass to you, as if sensing that you were looking at him. His lips were placed on the rim of the glass, but his gaze was solely trained on you.

You moved your body to the rhythm of the music without breaking eye contact. He watched your every move from behind that glass like a hunter observing its prey, dark eyes roaming over you with an expression you couldn't quite read.

The beat of the song playing intensified and so did your moves, rolling your hips in sync with it. That caught his attention since you caught him licking his lips. He was definitely interested but he didn't make a move to you that night.

So, you tried luring him in more the next time you went. You danced a but more provocative this time, a result of the combination of liquid burning down your throat. You threw your hands in your hair messing with it as you exposed your neck, all whilst narrowing your eyes on him.

The most that did was halt the glass that was halfway to his lips, hand gripping it tightly as if to preserve his self-control. You continued the teasing, this time letting your hands wander down your body following the way his eyes trailed down. That had him throwing the contents in his glass down his throat rapidly, tongue poking against his cheek. You smirked in victory at the reaction. But even that wasn't enough to bring him closer to you.

Last week you decided that it was going to be your final try. You would drop it if he still didn't understand your intentions this time around. After all, you had your pride to preserve too.

He could be God's favourite for all you cared but if he couldn't grasp the concept of a woman wanting him this badly it was his fault.

Your last resort was provoking him. You wore a shorter dress revealing just enough to get any man howling to rip it apart. But it turned out, he wasn't just any guy.

After scanning the crowd you grabbed a random guy and danced with him for the majority of the night. You let him move you along to the music, holding your body flush against his. He placed his hands on your waist and dipped his head in your neck leaving rough kisses down your neck. You tilted your head back and looked at the green-haired man only to see his jaw twitching, eyes narrowed to slits in your direction.

Smirking at his reaction you turned around to the guy, glueing yourself to him impossibly close. You leaned up to whisper in his ear, eyes still set on the man at the back. His fist tightened dangerously next to the glass on the table.

Even with those obvious responses it still didn't get the point across to him.

You didn't understand him. You literally gave him every basic hint that you were interested and he reciprocated the gestures only to keep himself in that damn darkened corner.

He gave you the attention. The intensity of his gaze couldn't lie on that. One look from him kept you wanting more and more. You craved to know that connection wasn't just a lucid dream induced by alcohol and strobe lights. You lost yourself in the need for him to want you the way you wanted him.

And you did all that for a stranger.

The pursuing ended tonight. You weren't going to wait for anyone. Tonight would just be about you and you only.

But your excitement to drown in liquor and dance the night away into the new year was short-lived as the dance floor was suddenly flooded by couples of all people.

Blocking the laughter and sweet nothings whispered way too loud around you became harder. You ordered more and more alcohol to neutralise your senses and keep your emotions at bay. But no matter how much you drank and danced, you couldn't prevent that lonely feeling from seeping into your bones once again.

The closer it got to midnight, the worse you felt. A couple to your right was making out quite grossly, hands grabbing at each other's faces like it was a hotdog eating competition. Another couple to your left were humping each other like they were the only ones on the dance floor. You were pretty sure someone already had their junk out and it was just a matter of time before it sat in your line of sight and you got scarred for life.

Ah, fuck this. I'm leaving.

There was no point in staying here longer only to make yourself hurt more than you already did. The universe wanted you to suffer till the remaining last seconds of the year and you weren't going to give it the satisfaction.

You emptied what was left in your cocktail glass and placed it on a nearby table. Grabbing your bag and hoisting it up your shoulder, you turned for the exit. You wanted to get out of here before it hit midnight and all these couples would be getting it on.

But someone had other plans for you.

You barely took two steps towards the exit when a strong arm locked on your arm and pulled you backwards. You crashed into a hard chest, world swaying around you from the rapid movement. A woody vanilla scent surrounded you, sending you into a deeper daze than you were already in.

"Leaving so soon?"

You turned your head back only to come face to face with the green-haired man that occupied your mind for the past few weeks. The same man that annoyed you to the world's end as your attempts to show your interest for him seemed in vain.

Your mind was working on overdrive to make sense of what was happening. You didn't even look for him tonight and he was here, holding your hand. It wasn't helping that he was sat right behind you, body so close that you found it hard to breathe like a normal person. What was worse was that his eyes were focused on you, a relaxed smirk dancing on his lips.

The more you gazed into his eyes the more he took your oxygen away. And you couldn't help staring at him just a little more too entranced in his presence.

He looked even more breathtaking up close, strobe lights bouncing off his features enhancing them even more. His eyes appeared a lot sharper than they looked in that poorly illuminated corner.

He had this weird way of putting you in a trance every time your eyes locked with his. It veered you away from the fact that he lead you on for the longest time anyone's ever done before.

Upon remembering why you had every reason to be sour towards him, you turned your head away from him. You also did it to gain some stability in your mind, narrowing your eyes on the blurring crowd of dancing people in front of you.

"Didn't really have anything keeping me here," you spat out.

The music changed to a slower rhythm, still bouncy enough to keep people dancing.

His hand let go of your arm and you breathed a sigh of relief, until he wrapped it around your waist instead. You prayed he couldn't hear or feel the way your heart was racing, considering your back was pressed firmly against his chest.

"Wasn't going to let you go without a dance," he whispered in your ear.

There was no telling if the shivers dancing down your spine were either from him or from how buzzed you are. But you could feel the deep tone of his voice even with the loud bass thumping through you, louder than your own heartbeat.

"Oh, really?"

You turned around to fully face him. He was a head taller than you, shoulders extending beyond your field of vision. Your eyes lingered on his bulky arms, lined with muscles upon muscles, wondering how it would feel like to be squished between them.

The relaxed dress shirt he wore tonight looked divine on him. It was unbuttoned just enough to give you a sneak peek of his pecs, the rest of the material stretching over his toned body perfectly.

Okay, maybe he is God's favourite.

Beyond his looks, he was also emanating this oddly comforting energy. It was what drew you to him in the first place. You felt it the minute he laid his eyes on you the first night you came here and you felt it now as his eyes bore into you.

He took his time checking you out too. He was finally standing this close to you and you rendered him absolutely speechless. He thought you were beautiful from that corner, but you were even more gorgeous up close.

Your hair was put up in a messy bun, a few hair pieces falling around loose, framing your face. Your eyes twinkled with the changing colours of the lights, curiosity and interest dancing in your eyes.

The white silk dress you wore fell just below your knees. The straps around your shoulders did little to keep the dress on you as they circled behind where a deep back line exposed you fully to him. That cutout of the back line stopped way too low for his liking and your chest was covered just enough to not give him a heart attack.

What surprised him was that your outfits matched. If anyone asked the two of you if you were a couple they would hit the nail beside the head, so close yet so far.

Wrapping up the staring contest, his eyes settled on your lips. They were slightly parted, eyes seemingly just as lost in him as his were in you mere moments ago.

He chuckled at you which brought you out of your own spiral of thoughts and back to the blaring music and chatter around you.

"What are you really looking for out here?" he asked, stepping just a little closer to you.

Well, for starters, you weren't looking for commitment. But you also weren't looking for a one night stand. As contradictory as that sounded.

But it was a new year, which meant you could give into that new year, new me bullshit without thinking too much about the consequences for once. Who knew, maybe something would change.

The green-haired man sitting before you did not look like the type to commit or have just a one night stand either. So, he might have been just as conflicted as you were on that topic.

"Tell you what," you stepped closer to him and traced his shoulders with the pads of your fingers. He followed your movements until your hands stopped at the collar of his shirt, palms laid flat on his chest. "We can cross that bridge when we come to it."

Your eyes moved to his lips for the millionth time tonight. They looked so plump and inviting. You wondered how they tasted. Were they soft, with a tinge of his cologne that was already getting you addicted or were they rough, tasting just like the alcohol he normally drank?

He noticed the way you eyed his lips hungrily. His eyes moved from your hands on his shirt to your own lips. He couldn't deny yours looked just as inviting.

"20 seconds to the New Year!" said the dj through the mic, gathering everyone around for the reverse countdown to the new year.

He could consider himself fucked if he didn't make a move now.

"10 seconds!"

His eyes darted between your eyes and your lips unsure if he should indulge and plant a kiss on them.

"5!"

With uncertainty still dancing in his irises he leaned in, eyes moving to your eyes to search for any sign you didn't want this. But all he found was a fire ardently raging in your eyes. It was him that started it after all.

"4!"

The look on his face made you nervous. Any moment now his lips would finally press to yours.

"3!"

He glanced at your lips, getting closer but moving so infuriatingly slow that you decided enough was enough.

"2!"

Fuck it. I'll do it myself.

You fisted his shirt harshly and pulled him down to you, unable to wait anymore.

"1!"

You smashed your lips on his just as the countdown came to an end.

"Happy New Year everyone!"

Gold confetti rained down on you from all sides, getting stuck in your hair. The song playing on the speakers accelerated and so did your heartbeat the more your lips moved in the same rhythm with his.

Your hands locked at the nape of his neck pulling him closer to you. One of his hands wrapped around your waist, while the other grabbed the side of your face.

"May this new year be filled with fun for all of you," boomed the dj through his microphone before putting up the volume on the music.

New year's wishes could wait a little more. For now, you were too busy exploring the lips of the man that started a fire deep inside of you. He bit your lower lip, eager to take the kiss somewhere else.

You've been kissed before but never like this. It felt euphoric, like you reached the seventh heaven with the help of his lips alone. You were thankful he held onto you because your knees shook dangerously. And this time it wasn't from the damn alcohol.

You pulled apart trying to will some air back into your lungs. A lone hair strand fell in front of your face and you lifted your hand to brush it away but he was faster. He took it and gently put it behind your ear, letting his fingers ghost over the side of your neck. You couldn't help the smile pulling at your lips.

"Give me a second."

He let go of you and rushed off somewhere. You waited for a bit then scanned the crowd, unable to find him anywhere.

He couldn't have just left me here after that, right?

Did I rush him into it?

He probably left, didn't he?

Oh, lord.

I scared another good guy away.

This one was special too.

Great way to start the year, doofus.

Before you could wallow into self-pity and rethink your exit plan, he came back. Turns out he just went to get his jacket.

New Year's resolution: Stop overthinking shit.

He moved his jacket to one hand and let the other one find yours again, fingers lacing with yours delicately. The same fingers you studied for nights on end wishing they were wrapped around yours were now actually interwoven with yours.

"Do you have your things with you?"

You nodded, motioning to your bag as you fixed it on your shoulder, slightly confused at the question. He started walking to the bar, dragging you with him and hastily waved over a bartender.

"Give me the best bottle of champagne you have, a bucket of ice and two glasses. I'll take one of those platters too."

"The what-," you stuttered, shocked at his detailed request. He just smirked and you felt warmth rush to your cheeks.

How is a literal stranger making me blush and feel like I'm gonna explode at the same time?

Once he received the bucket with everything he asked for stacked neatly, he paid the bartender and led you outside to the beach. Fireworks were still going on from the looks of it. You could see the displays on either side of the beach you looked at. There were a few groups gathered around bonfires on the outside extension of the club, clinking glasses together and wishing for a better year.

You got a feeling he wasn't keen on hanging around others considering the fact that he mostly drank alone. Spotting a blanket and a few cushions on a couch you grabbed them, securing them under your free arm before you linked your hand back with his.

He started walking and true to your assumptions he led you further away from the crowd. He finally stopped at a spot that was illuminated enough to see each other. It was rather reclusive, but still in the vicinity of the club.

"Is this the part where you kill me or something?"

"I try to act like a gentleman and you take me for a psychopath," he deadpanned.

"Well, are you a psychopath?"

He just chuckled at your remark and shook his head.

"If I was, I wouldn't have asked the bartender for the best champagne they had."

"Fair point," you giggled.

He took the blanket from you spreading it out on the sand. You placed the cushions down while he placed the platter in the middle and motioned for you to sit down first.

"So, why did you bring me out here, stranger?"

"I've been meaning to talk to you for a while, but I guess tonight was a better time to do it than any. And name's Zoro."

He placed the bucket down and took a seat next to you. Grabbing the bottle of champagne he worked on opening the aluminum seal. Your eyes wandered over his arms, mindlessly stopping at the label and you felt your heart fall to your ass.

"IS THAT DOM PERIGNON?!"

You covered your mouth surprised that your voice came out so loud. He chuckled at your reaction before he moved to open the wooden cork.

That champagne costs a fortune. The selling a kidney or two kind of fortune. Fortune that you will probably never reach in your lifetime to just blow away on champagne regularly.

"Yeah, it is," he smiled. "I asked the bartender for the best they had and it's safe to assume he delivered."

"And you want to drink that... with me?" you asked pointing between the bottle and yourself.

He nodded, busy fighting with the bottle. He almost had it open but the cork just needed a little shimmying. An idea seemed to pop into his head judging by the way he snickered at you.

"Wanna see a trick?"

"Sure."

He picked up one of the champagne glasses in the bucket and held the bottom to the mouth of the bottle. He wiggled it a little on its neck until he found the perfect balance, moved it back and thrusted it forwards with force.

You expected the glass to break and fly everywhere but that didn't happen. What did happen was that the cork flew towards the small waves washing up on the shore with a safe pop sound. The glass was unharmed and the bottle was at last open, cold steam escaping it.

Your mouth was hung open in surprise. So he has several tricks up his sleeve, besides the gentleman act.

Satisfied with your reaction at his trick, he smiled again, this time more widely. He poured you a glass first and handed it to you before pouring himself one.

"Happy new year, stranger," he smiled, tilting his glass to you.

"Happy new year, Zoro," you returned the smile and clinked your glasses together.

You sipped the champagne surprised at the taste. It had a rich apricot flavor, a little sweet but not too over the top. You took your time savouring it. Who knew when you would get to relish in luxury like this ever again so might as well enjoy it.

You leaned back watching the remaining firework display. He moved to get comfortable, leaning on his side with his head on his palm. He had your exposed back in full view. Your skin looked so soft that it took everything in him not to trace his fingers down your spine.

"You're an interesting man."

"So I've been told."

"You had me running circles around you for weeks, you know."

"I know," he swirled the liquid in his glass, staring at it. "I'm not exactly a pro on the dating field."

"You don't look like a beginner either," you said before throwing back the champagne in your glass down your throat for some more liquid courage.

"What about you?" he asked as he got up to pour you another glass. "Should I be wary of any male alphas that would like to smash my face for kissing you?"

You laughed heartily at that. He's been around you for half an hour at most and he already made you feel giddy inside.

"Nope, not a single soul. Main reason why I've been hanging around at the club more than I do around my own house."

That was an exaggeration but there was some truth in it. You did it hoping to find someone that you could connect with in some way. And you did, considering the green-haired man currently laying next to you. It was just a question of whether he felt that connection too.

"And I thought you were coming to see me."

"Of course I did!"

His eyes shot up from his glass just as you registered what you said. The blush on your face expanded and you probably looked like a tomato by now.

Stupid alcohol.

"Sure you did," he chuckled.

You leaned back to smack his chest and he threw his head back laughing at the sight of your red face. As annoyed as you felt, his laugh was quickly growing on you.

"Tease," you tsked.

"Can't help it," he scoffed with a tight-lipped smile, taking another sip from his glass.

"I guess it's good," you mumbled mostly to yourself.

"What's good?" he asked.

"Letting go of the past. Living in the present, as they say."

"Losing control every once in a while can do you good," he stated.

Maybe he was right. Maybe tonight wouldn't turn out so bad after all.

Watching the sea at night when it was the calmest, with the moonlight glimmering on the waves put you at ease. Just as much as the man beside you did right now.

You dove in the charcuterie platter, laying on the blanket with your heads propped on the cushions, talking about anything and everything. You learned more about him and the fact that he could handle a shit ton of alcohol seen as he was downing champagne glasses faster than you.

Telling him about yourself and what a shit year you've had in terms of dating to get him off your case a little was supposed to be just light-hearted banter. But he just took that as a sign to tease you more.

"How to lose a guy in 10 days was definitely made about you," he howled laughing, after you told him about one of your situationships.

"Really funny. As if you've seen the movie," you said, popping a grape in your mouth.

"Try me," he taunted, adjusting his position to sit above you.

You mentally searched the movie for a scene that was iconic but could have easily gone unnoticed. You found the perfect one. Suppressing your giggles to not give it away, you cleared your throat to get in character and recited the scene word for word.

"Little, big, little, big... I don't know... I guess we will find out!" You made the grabby hands and pulled on a silly face, embodying the character.

He sat thinking for a few moments until the colour drained from his face at the realization of what scene it was.

"I am not saying that line even if you shoot me."

"Come on. I did it so it's customary you do it too."

He face palmed, releasing a sigh of annoyance. He just had to put himself on the spot like that. But he was a man of his word.

Looking around for anyone that could possibly hear him and become a collateral victim, he let out an exasperated breath and got into character.

"You-You can't name my member... Princess Sophia."

You rolled around laughing as he dug his face in his cushion in shame. The look on his face was priceless and you decided to pay back his earlier teasing with even more teasing.

"I have a question."

"What now?" he mumbled, voice muffled by the blanket.

You got closer to him and tried to keep your laugh in as you whispered your question in his ear.

"Does your member have a name too?"

His head shot up, eyes squinting at you dangerously. The earlier embarrassment was gone from his face and if the twitch in his jaw wasn't a clear indicator that you were in deep shit, the hand gripping your cushion was a good sign that you should run away.

"You're so dead."

Before he could lay his hands on you, you got up and ran out towards the shoreline. He followed, rushing to catch up with you.

You lifted your dress a bit to avoid stepping on it and bolted as fast as you could. He almost had you when you took a turn to throw him off, running back to the spot your blanket was on.

"Catch me if you can," you laughed.

"There's nowhere for you to run."

"Watch me."

You slowed down on purpose, letting him get close to you again only to dash out back to the sea. The soft sand under your feet turned from smooth to damp and soon enough your feet were submerged in cold water. You thought he wouldn't follow you to avoid getting his clothes soaked but he proved you wrong again tonight.

He ran towards you at full speed and you really had nowhere else to run this time. The bottom of your dress got drenched, sticking to your legs the further you went in. The water only slowed you down, giving him the opportunity to catch up with you.

You were waist deep in the water when his hands sneaked around your middle pulling you to him. You tried to break free but it was no use. The grip he had around you was as strong as steel.

"Let me go."

"Only if you say sorry."

"What if I don't? You gonna make me?"

"Huh, so she's got guts too," he chuckled.

"Why don't you fuck around and find out just how gutsy I am?"

You refused to give in. Splashing water at him only made the grin on his face widen because he started tickling you. And everyone knew tickling was a low belt move. You roared with laughter thrashing around in his arms.

Suddenly, retreat sounded a lot better than being tickled to death.

"Okay! I'm sorry!"

"Are you really?"

"No, but stop tickling me."

Reluctantly, he let go of you. He knew you had a surprise attack in store. His suspicions were confirmed true when you ran behind him, trying to push him into the water. He lost his balance but he wasn't planning on going down alone, hand quickly clamping down on yours to pull you with him.

You gasped as the water enveloped you fully. Sitting back up, you were fully drenched. Most of your hair was wet too, water dripping out of it like you just stepped out of the shower. Zoro, on the other hand, was giggling at you like a fucking school girl proud of bullying her friends.

Annoyed with his antics, you turned around and walked back to the blanket, plopping yourself down. He walked out too, that devilish smirk plastered on his face.

He stopped in front of you. You tried to look away from him but you couldn't. Especially when his shirt was so soaked that it stuck to his body in a way that let you see all of his toned muscles.

"Like what you see?"

You snapped out of your delusions, putting your annoyed face back on.

"Go away," you waved him off.

A sudden gust of wind blew reminding you of just how exposed you were. You looked like a wet dog. Your dress was wet and stuck to you uncomfortably, increasing the cold seeping inside your body at a faster rate than you liked..

You let your hair down placing it around your neck to get some sort of warmth from the parts that weren't soaked. Covering your arms in an attempt to wash the cold away, the breeze only persisted, blowing even more harshly as if to spite you. Zoro noticed you shivering.

"Are you cold?"

Still irritated with him, you shook your head no. You didn't want his help after the stunt he pulled. But the way you held tightly onto your arms and rocked from side to side told him otherwise.

Out of nowhere, warmth enveloped you. You turned to see Zoro right behind you, hands on top of your shoulders to make his blazer jacket cover as much of your body as it could to keep you warm. It was big enough to look like a blanket on you. You sighed at the comfort, pulling it closer to snuggle into the warmth of the fabric, feeling some of the cold dissipate.

"It might be hot out here but it's still December."

"It's January now," you stated.

"Okay, smartass," he boomed.

The night sky got darker and stars twinkled brightly as you talked until you finished the bottle of champagne and the platter. As much as he liked to tease, you loved his company a lot. The more time you spent with him the more you wished tonight would never come to an end.

He suddenly got up from his spot beside you and went to stand in front of you. He scratched the back of his neck looking at you which made you confused until he spoke up about his intentions.

"May I have this dance?"

He extended his hand out to you and you hesitated. Not out of the nervousness you felt yourself, but in a ploy to push his buttons. He deserved a little more teasing after making you wait for it for so long.

"Come on. I told you I wasn't gonna let you leave without a dance."

The way he looked at you changed your playful plans. It looked like he was really trying to be more into it and you couldn't say no to those eyes.

"Okay," you gave in, letting your hand slip into his.

His eyes lit up like moon crescents as he pulled you up and brought you closer. This must have been the softer, drunken part of him.

"What about music?" you asked.

"Music?"

He moved from one side to the other until he settled on a spot a few feet away from the blanket, tugging you with him. You were about to question his actions when you heard it. The faint sound of music playing from the club mixed with the sound of the waves breaking at the edge of the shore. It wasn't too loud or too faint but just enough to be peaceful and rhythmic background noise.

"You're unbelievable, in a good way," you giggled. He just smiled at you like a fool, most likely gone on the bouts of alcohol induced giddiness.

He pulled you closer, one hand holding yours out while the other curled around your waist, similar to a fancy dancing pose. Stepping left and right he pulled you with him into something that resembled a very weird tangled waltz.

You danced a combination of everything. He twirled you around, bottom of your dress swirling around you. Then he spun you out and brought you back in to hold you close as your hands settled back on his shoulders. He even lifted you up like one of those ballerinas you see at the opera, paying attention not to drop you face forward in the sand like a true dancing partner. You couldn't deny you had chemistry.

Twisting you around again, he stopped to dip you down on your back, hands secured tightly around you. He leaned down to your face, just a small distance away from putting his lips on yours. You closed your eyes in anticipation, expecting him to kiss you.

You wanted to feel his lips against yours again, missing the way they fit just right with yours back at the club. But just when you thought he would kiss you, you felt his lips elsewhere on your face - in a small peck on your cheek.

He brought you back up and grinned as your cheeks flushed pink. You brought a hand up to your cheek to touch it, feeling the faint brush of his lips burn into your skin as you processed it. He took your hand away from your cheek and laced his fingers with yours, leading you into yet another dance.

It was ridiculous. You were dancing to faint tropical house music on the beach in the darkness of the night with no sense of rhythm. But the soft sand under your feet felt better than any rigid dance floor you've been on and your dance partner was gentler than anyone you've ever danced with. You wouldn't trade this for the world.

The side effects of all the alcohol you drank was slowly kicking in and thankfully, the pace of your swaying got slower. You laid your head on his chest and let him rock you back and forth, listening to the beating of his heart that was more music to you than anything else.

"Thank you."

"What for?" he asked, looking down at your small form in his arms.

"For tonight," you sighed. "I haven't felt this good in a while."

"You're welcome," he said softly.

He was still trying to process things himself, mostly the fact that he was finally holding you after playing hooky for so long. You curled up closer searching for more warmth in his arms and he couldn't help but smile at you once more. It wasn't like him to show his inner happiness to people, but it seemed like his smiles were limitless for you.

The high of the alcohol you consumed was long gone, replaced by a drowsy feeling overtaking your senses. The music stopped playing telling you it was way too late for the world to keep going at it. All you could hear were the waves lapping each other in close distance, accompanied by a peaceful silence and the soft breaths coming from your human pillow.

You cuddled into him, sighing at the warmth he radiated. An arm was draped around you, drawing random patterns on your back that lulled you even more towards sleep though you didn't want to give into it just yet.

His other hand busied with yours, tracing up and down your fingers one by one. He turned them on all sides, then moved to your knuckles, inspecting each ridge and mound, each fading scar evidence of your rebel childhood. Once he was satisfied with his findings he intertwined your fingers together, bringing them closer to his chest.

Your hand looked so frail in his bigger one, encased like a precious jewel in a locked treasure chest with a lost key. But that key wasn't lost. It was just waiting to be found. Just like the latch on the hotel in your heart was waiting to be put back on the door by a person who wanted to stay all year around. Could he be that person for you?

He was the only thing turning in the tides of this endless night and you couldn't take your eyes off of him. Meeting him felt like some kind of blessing was bestowed upon you. Like all the pain of the previous year and the endless waiting was finally rewarded the way it was written to happen from the start.

By the looks of it he felt that connection too. It might have been just a one night adventure but only your sober minds could decide that in the fast approaching morning. But for now, being in each other's presence was enough to calm the tempest that's been swirling in your heart for so long.

He noticed you doze off when your head felt a little heavier on his chest. Taking his eyes off the sea and the few boats popping up and down the waves in the distance, he looked at you. Your cheeks turned a rosy shade, most likely from the amount of booze you had. They puffed up against his chest, light snores escaping through your opened lips. There was a little trail of drool pooling at the edge of your lower lip. He chuckled and wiped it away, making a mental note to tease you about it when you wake up.

Truth is that he's been waiting around for you all night back at the club. Time was flowing way too slow and his patience was running thin. But once you finally walked through the door his inner clocks froze over. His breath got caught in his throat, so much that he couldn't find it in himself to make a move to you yet again.

So, he just watched you from his usual spot, hoping he could get some liquid courage if he drank a little before coming to you. But he wasted way too much time wallowing in self-pity.

When you got your things and slammed the glass on the table enraged, he knew you were about to leave. If he let you leave back then he was sure he wouldn't be able to face you again. So he finally made a move to you, running through the crowd to catch you.

The fact that you were now tucked safely in his arms, wearing his jacket, told him he made a move at the right time. Who knew what other man would've stolen you away if he waited for too long. Or if he ever got to see you again.

From what you told him, he could sense how much you craved to find someone. To stop opening up to people who didn't even want to hear about anything other than bodily pleasure. Because he craved a deeper connection with someone too. He was just bad at showing it most of the time.

"I'm so glad you didn't settle," he whispered, laying a soft kiss on the crown of your head.

He spent the remainder of the night watching over you, until the dark sky turned into the early haze of dawn. He closed his eyes for a bit, waiting for you to wake up and unknowingly, he doze off in the comfort of feeling you close.

The comfort you were wrapped in was so cozy that you found it hard to open your eyes. Once you did, you took in your surroundings, surprised to see the green-haired man still at your side. The longer edges of the blanket were wrapped around the both of you, providing some warmth in the early morning breeze.

You half expected him to leave you here on the beach. To wake up and think of it as just another drunken night out that others normally wanted to take back. But he didn't.

You looked towards the sea. The previously dark night sky that was illuminated by the glow of the moon was now a myriad of orange and pink. It was brighter than any sunrise you've ever seen.

The start of a new beginning, you smiled to yourself.

The sun was still on his way to fully light up the sky, but the rays were already bouncing off the waves in glimmering gold and the sea looked so crystalline and blue, like you were watching a movie scene unfold before you.

Turning back to the man beside you, you took your time taking him in. He was sound asleep judging by the way his chest rose up and down slowly and had one arm under his head, propping it higher than the cushion could. The other one was still wrapped around you, in the same position you remembered it to be before you fell asleep. Small chimes came from his golden earrings as they dangled on the breeze of the wind.

He looked so at peace, a close-mouthed smile on his lips. The urge to lift your hand and trace the outlines of those lips grew the more you looked at them.

"Take a picture. It'll last longer," he spoke, taking you by surprise. His voice was way deeper than last night, resounding a little raspy in your half-asleep ears.

"How long have you been awake?"

"Enough to feel you staring at me like I'm made from tempered glass."

"I wasn't staring."

"Sure you weren't."

"Okay, you caught me."

His eyes crinkled in pride at getting you to admit it before opening up to look at you.

"How did you sleep?" he asked, a hint of amusement present in his voice.

"I slept fine," you replied, eyeing him with a raised eyebrow.

He looked too pleased with himself in the early hours of the morning. As if he knew something you didn't.

"Did I do something weird in my sleep?"

"I wouldn't say weird. But I'm glad you were comfortable enough to do it with me," he smirked.

What the fuck did I do? Did I snore? Did I kick him? Wait. He said I did something with him. Did we do something like-

Your eyes widened as the thought crossed your mind. The look on his face could only say that you did exactly what you thought you did.

"DID WE FUCK?" you whisper shouted.

His grin just widened and he started laughing hysterically, slapping the sand beside him like a maniac.

"Why are you laughing- YOU LITTLE SHIT!"

"Your face! That was priceless."

The daggers you were throwing at him told him you weren't in the mood for ridicule you this early in the morning. Too bad he had other plans.

"But you did do something."

"JUST TELL ME ALREADY," you shouted, getting ready to strangle him.

He seemed deep in thought on whether he should tell you.

"What are you willing to do for this important information?"

The way he wiggled his eyebrows at you told you he wanted to negotiate some terms first, as if he was withholding national secrets or some shit.

"I'll do anything," you sighed, playing along with him.

"Anything?"

"Zoro, I swear to god I'm going to put my foot through your face."

"All it takes is one kiss."

"One kiss? What are you, five?"

"Rules are rules. Kiss or I'm not telling you."

Your tongue poked your cheek in annoyance as you looked out at the sea debating your choices.

You could either run away and live with the humiliation that you'll never know what you did that had him make fun of you this bad. Or you could just humour him and find out what it was quicker. The latter seemed like the better choice.

"Okay, fine."

You decided to go for a kiss on the cheek, to pay him back for the almost kiss he gave you while dancing. You leaned down to him, cheek in your direct line of sight. You were about to plant the quickest peck on it when he moved his face so your lips landed on his instead.

They tasted like a glass of freshly opened champagne, just like the one you drank with him last night. You felt him smile against your lips, holding onto the nape of your neck to pull you closer. When he was satisfied enough with his kiss, he let go of you and you separated, breaths fanning each other.

"Are you gonna tell me now?"

"Did you know you drool in your sleep?"

"I DID WHAT-"

"There was like a whole lot of it on my shirt. Like a newborn baby's."

You burried your head in his side, trying to hide the blush rising on your cheeks. He just laughed at you squeezing you closer.

"There's nothing to be ashamed of. I think it was adorable."

"You're just saying that," you mumbled.

"I mean it."

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever."

He moved away from you and you thought he got up. Turning your gaze upwards you found him standing above you, hands on either side of you.

The playfulness in his eyes was exchanged for dark eyes staring down at you with hunger. The smirk on his lips told you that nothing remotely good passed through his mind at the moment and it made you gulp.

He leaned down to you and your breath hitched. No man made you this nervous before and you didn't even do anything together to feel this way. Like you sinned a thousand sins or something.

His lips brushed your ear, chest almost pressing against yours.

"Am I making you nervous?"

"Yeah. No. I don't know."

He looks like a sculpture and I'm supposed to not get turned on by it? Yeah, right.

He took you by surprise pressing his lips on the side of your neck. It made you forget where you were in the first place, mind entirely focused on the fluttering feeling he instilled in you. He moved the kisses all the way down to your jaw, with the goal of getting to your lips.

Just before you could feel them again, your stomach grumbled loudly interrupting your moment. Turns out the flutters were from being hungry.

"You have great timing," he shook his head at you.

"It's not my fault I'm hungry."

"Then, how about we grab something to eat?"

"I would love that."

He sat up and helped you up, starting to gather the stuff that needed to be taken back to the club in the bucket. You grabbed your heels, putting your arms through the sleeves of his jacket. Once you had everything you started making your way back.

"I'm craving seafood," you recommended. "What do you wanna eat?"

"You."

"EWW DONT SAY THAT."

"I'm joking."

"I am never kissing randos on new year's ever again."

"Only if I can become the only rando you kiss on every new year's."

"You're impossible," you smiled.

"Only for you."

Part 2

Thank you for reading! As always, comments, likes and reblogs are welcome :)

[risingshine]

So I am finally in a pathfinder game and I made iyana and chiasa - currently gonna play iyana cause we already have enough frontliners

But!! I really like how chiasa's armor came out - it's based on Shougeki from For Honor, another japanese big boi with club.

(For anyone curious, Iyana is a Chireugeon Alchemist and Chiasa is a Orc-Nephilim Redemption Paladin)

[yiga-hellhole]

TFTK CHAPTER 25: RECRUITMENT UNDER THE TWILIGHT KING

After Zant seized the Triforce of power, the next-most important phase of his plan enters: rebuilding his army. Old allies are in need of rescuing and, conveniently, they happen to be trapped right in his fortress of choice.

aaand welcome back! the next 4 chapters have been up on ao3 for a bit, but i only just got around to the promo art. thank you all for your patience! inspo for the top panel comes from kentaro miura's berserk, chapter 86 [MIND CONTENT WARNINGS IF YOU HAVEN'T READ BERSERK BEFORE], because i wanted this moment of tenderness to look unnerving. YAY <3

speaking of content warnings. CW this chapter for gore and graphic violence. this chapter was betaread, as usual, by @bulgariansumo and @orfeoarte ! thank u so much!

ao3 mirror

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18

A ludicrous fantasy Ghirahim would once have mocked was now reality: Zant had claimed the Triforce. Its power thrummed in his veins like a second heartbeat, felt in shocks with the slightest touch. He felt it when Zant’s hand plunged into his chest to take their blade; he felt it when they shared a bed, ramming against his cheek when he laid his head upon his chest; he felt it when they as much as crossed gazes. Always deep, resonant, and rhythmic, the heavy beating of a drum right in his ears. It was alive – breathing that life into that wilted thing of a host, who had died two times too many.

It’d been in his possession for mere days, and already their enemies were grasping for cards. None knew whether to storm wherever he lingered, or to evacuate wherever his serpent eyes sought their next siege. Ghirahim stayed by his side as his scabbard, as his retainer, and, somewhat discreetly, as his lover, march after march, watching the shimmering ocean of battles carried out in their name below, but finding far more intrigue in seeing their flames reflected in the Twilight King’s eyes. There was coldness in them, ruthless like a natural-born killer, but through it burst the sparks of a manic joy. Of elation, that tugged at the corners of his lips. These days, it was getting more and more difficult to read him. 

This was the fourth day. They made it to the Temple of Souls in record time. Winter had not been kind to it – where once a labyrinth of lush roses grew rampantly on its estate, there was now a nonsensical mass of dead, black thorns, so brittle to the touch Ghirahim couldn’t imagine them piercing skin. Yet they must have been, because there rang the occasional whine from their soldiers chopping the paths down. Ghirahim quietly thanked the fact Yuga was stuck in prison somewhere in that dark, gloomy building. The Sorcerer surely wouldn’t have liked to see what had become of his prized garden, much less what Zant’s forces were doing to it. 

When they broke through this first line of defense, the second stood waiting. Four days was not many to prepare against a siege, but it had been enough for Hyrule to put them in a small spot of trouble. Their forces were struggling, a sea of thorns at their backs to be pushed into, and wooden clubs meeting their match against tempered steel. 

But Zant seemed unperturbed. He simply stood and stared at the Temple, watching as the last snowmelt dripped down the balcony. He turned to Ghirahim almost casually, held out his hand, and said, “Perhaps it is a little early for a spring cleaning, but we might as well start, no?”

His Blade answered wordlessly, took his hand. Fingers entwined, they stepped past their frontlines and into contested ground… Only for a shockwave to tear through the opposing forces, and cleave them a path. Those that didn’t perish from the impact launched backward, slamming against the stone staircase leading up to the temple. They traversed this carpet of fallen soldiers almost without a care in the world, undisturbed by those who attempted to break past the force fields around them. Their steps forcing the blood out of crushed organs beneath, crimson splatters colored the ground where petals once lay. The occasional, opportunistic allied soldier would dart past them, but up until the doorway, they cleanly passed down their aisle. 

What would normally require a battering ram and the effort of dozens of men, took Zant nothing but a forceful shove of the palm. The stone door before them thudded and shrieked, a spiderweb of cracks digging into its surface. It gave way soon after. Down it crumbled, the parts of it still intact creaking inwards on loose hinges. Past the rubble, dust, and pebbles, the next wave of Hyruleans greeted their intruders. The first fool to close in on them would feel a sword sneak past his gorget, and then, feel nothing at all. Blood fresh on his blade, Ghirahim struck down the next, and the next, and the next, fighting tirelessly to guide the Twilight King through the crowd.

But where were they headed? They knew nothing of where their prisoners were kept. Digging in his memory, Ghirahim recalled nothing vaguely even resembling prison cells in the entire building. The Temple was an archive, a sanctuary, a mansion. It was not meant to know enemies, much less to harbor them. Moreover, the place was a veritable maze. If they ran around recklessly in search of their lieutenants, they would certainly get ambushed.

At the risk of losing his focus, he started to dowse. Yuga… Though a powerful mage, his presence had always been weak. Ghirahim did not typically track smaller targets, but for the sake of speed, he attempted nonetheless. He honed in on a sound, a smell, a memory… Shrill laughter, rosewater, and a wicked glare from across the studio. Weak chimes in his core confirmed his calibration. 

Yuga was upstairs. But, barely, it seemed… Whatever that meant. He had no time to linger upon it. Amidst his faltering concentration, Zant had slid in to defend him. This sight filled him with such an instinctual feeling of disgrace he took not a split second of hesitation to grab him by the arm, and promptly warped the both of them to the top of the stairs.

Hyrulean troops were sparser here, but they would not be for long once word spread they’d arrived here. Ghirahim looked left, looked right, hoping for a confirming chime to ring out.

Left wing.

Zant kept pace with him, but Ghirahim felt his burning look of inquiry at his back. “Yuga is kept this way,” he hissed out as they ran down the hall. “It’s best we get to him quickly.”

Oh, he could hear it already. How reckless it was to rush ahead with their troops lagging so far behind. How the path should have been clear before breaking out a prisoner. But the fool dragging behind him now had far too much power to worry about such practicalities. They cleaved through the hallway, right past the windows, the paintings – 

… This seemed familiar to Ghirahim. He had a feeling he knew where they were keeping the Sorcerer. Very quickly, he found the thought of it alone tacky. 

To his chagrin, they found the jail room a mere few turns later. Steel bars had been fitted over the door and the stained glass windows around it. Before it stood waiting a handful of guards, who rushed toward them at once. Yuga was imprisoned in his own atelier. 

Ghirahim sighed and took the first of the guards down. These men were slightly more competent, he noted quietly. They would have to be, considering who they were trying to keep in. It took a few nicks on his skin and clothing for him to find a moment’s respite to turn to Zant.

“You can break through those bars yourself, no?”

He nodded in response, hesitating but a moment to step closer to the door. “Right, before we head inside. Yuga is going to be in an incredibly sensitive state. I think it would be wise if I led the conversation,” Zant said, ignoring the guard rushing towards the both of them until he sent the man sailing down the hallway with a flick of his hand. “I fear you might lack the tact for it.”

“Lacking tact? Me? You have some nerve,” Ghirahim growled, refusing to humor him with his usual light air of banter. “You’ve spent far too much time buttering me up to start insulting me now.”

“It’s just a piece of perspective you lack. I mean nothing bad by it,” Zant responded, his hands raised defensively.

Arms folded loosely as to not lose his grip on his sword, Ghirahim frowned back. “And what, pray tell, is it that I lack? Or do you think me too stupid to comprehend whatever you’ve got planned?”

“Come now, not so hasty. It’s just an observation I made. Your disdain for mortals makes you miss out on crucial details, Ghirahim-ili. Do you have even the slightest idea as to what could make him… Distraught?”

Ghirahim sighed, furrowing his brow. “Yuga is distraught to tears at the drop of a hat, to begin with. Were he to be upset in particular about witnessing the defeat of our Master, or something as juvenile as his precious roses being torn down, he would have little more reason to grieve than I do.”

Rumbling down the hall. Some crowd was approaching, whether friend or foe. They both ignored it completely in favor of their conversation. Zant smirked at Ghirahim’s response. “As I thought. I must specify. Had you listened, you would have caught that Lorule is a kind of mirror world. In it, a doppelgänger of each living being is born… Yuga, as it would seem, fills the role of Ganondorf in his world.”

His esoteric trivia again. Ghirahim found it odd timing, frustrating almost. He certainly didn’t enjoy the implications this one carried.  “... I see. What about it?”

“A bit of sympathy is in order, is all. To give you some perspective. To lose Ganondorf, to him, would be akin to tearing your scabbard from you, and leave you without a hand to wield you. You could live, certainly…”

Ghirahim’s furrowed brow relaxed, his face now solemn. Zant was prodding at sore spots and he knew it – Ghirahim had experienced both of those, in relatively short succession, in the past few months. He was forced to speak aloud what he’d kept quietly to himself that entire time. “... But I wouldn’t be complete.”

“Precisely.” 

At once, Ghirahim was annoyed. Must he have been reminded of such agonies now, and share them with one he was so cross with? He had long opinionated himself about Yuga’s incessant clinging to what was supposed to be his Master, but this bit of empathetic pampering from Zant drove a nail right into his ire. Yuga was no more special than he. Even less so! What was a failed copy to a loyal blade!? How infuriating. 

“Hah! And you speak of tact,” Ghirahim exclaimed, frowning with a nasty grin. He decided there was little point in bickering in the hallway. So he marched on forward, giving Zant a stiff shove in the back to hurry him to the door. “This entire lecture could have been condensed to a simple, ‘Ghirahim-ili, let me handle this’. Not a snide comment necessary!”

Zant hardly stumbled, but easily swayed by him as ever, did exactly as he wanted. “Perhaps you are right, but I wanted to even the scales on the snark you’ve been giving me the past few months, just a little.”

“You are very lucky I can’t break through that helmet, Twili.”

“I’m thankful for it every minute.”

With the doorway now free to open, Zant opened the door with silent care and slithered inside. “Yuga, Lord of Lorule. We’ve come to free you from death row,” he announced.

When Ghirahim followed behind him, he realized instantly what Zant must have meant by a ‘sensitive state’. The atelier had been completely thrashed. Broken bottles of pigments littered the floor into a desolate rainbow amidst the toppled furniture. Strewn around the room, some crooked on the wall, were the remains of portraits, their faces burned off. There was but one painting intact enough to discern its subject – though for all of them, it could easily be gleaned. The scene unfolded just by the tall windows, covered in bars and thorns as they were, the grey skies beyond them shrouding the room in a cold, dull light.

Ghirahim felt an icy chill under the golden gaze of his late Master, piercing through him from across the atelier. The last depiction of Ganondorf he might ever see again, rendered in this loving detail, captured him in an instant, with his wild, fiery hair, his powerful build, and that stern, ambitious look that drove him to grovel every time it turned to him. So engrossed was Ghirahim, that he hadn’t noticed the figure wilting before it. 

Yuga sat at the base of the portrait, leaning into a nearby chair for support, as if he once had collapsed there and hadn’t gotten up since. He was shrouded in black, the only color on him now being from his own hair. The once so-well-kept ringlets that bounced on his shoulders had collapsed into an unruly mass of curls, and just then, shifted across his back as he blearily turned his head.

Some glint of surprise passed through his face, but Yuga did not seem to have the energy to have it linger. As he turned to them, Ghirahim’s eye landed on one particular detail. In his madness, Yuga had ripped the casing of a decorative pillow to shreds with his teeth. 

“... Zant? Ghirahim? You – Am I seeing ghosts?”

Zant stepped closer into the light, a dull white interlaced with the shadows of prison bars. “Worry not for your sanity, Yuga. We are very much alive.”

“But… The Desert… We were certain you had perished,” Yuga tried to reason.

Zant’s helmet clattered and folded in on itself. Beneath it, he smiled sympathetically. “By the skin of my teeth, I survived. I have Ghirahim to thank for it.”

Yuga turned to look at Ghirahim again, who, struggling to keep his expression straight after such a grating comment, nodded in acknowledgement. “I would be glad to see you, but, my friends, look at the state I’m in. My masterpieces. Our army. Our Master,” he prattled on, gesturing pathetically to himself. Before Ghirahim could ponder on how pitiful he looked, Yuga’s words took a bitter turn. “Why didn't you assist us?”

Excuses at the ready as usual, Zant responded quickly. “I was bedridden, still, the day Ganon fell. And if I hadn’t been, I doubt our late Master would have wanted us to come to his aid.” 

Barely suspended disbelief crossed Yuga’s squinted eyes. “What do you mean?”

“Ganondorf betrayed us. That desert was meant to be our deathbed, and we failed to comply to his wishes by refusing to be buried in it. I suspect he had been displeased with us ever since our defeat at Death Mountain, and has been attempting to get rid of us since.”

Liar. Filthy, snake-tongued liar. 

“... That – I had no idea, to think that he would…” Yuga was still for a long time, for as far as the chaos outside allowed for stillness. “Fool I was. To be so close to him, and so blind to his plans. But what does it matter now? You say you are here to free me. What, exactly, is left of me to free? I’m nothing, now. I’ve failed, I’ve been humiliated, and now, I am more powerless than I’ve ever been.”

And Yuga was buying every word of it like it was on discount. How fragile grief made the mortal mind! It was getting more and more difficult for Ghirahim to mask his disgust. But he could not simply zone out, close himself off from this exchange. These were lies that the both of them would have to hold dear, as to not betray to Yuga that they were complicit in the fall of Ganon. It would be a very, very bitter lie, for possibly centuries to come. 

Again Zant walked closer to his frail lieutenant. He stood across him now, mere steps away. “On the contrary, Yuga. You will be instrumental in my plans.”

“... Plans? Oh, Usurper. Don’t tell me,” Yuga laughed weakly.

Those final steps were crossed. Zant hunched down, taking Yuga’s hands in his and squeezing them. “But I am. Yuga, you have wit. You have magic. But more importantly, you have my trust. ”

Zant then laid his hands on his shoulders, staring him down with those wide eyes of his. “Tell me, Yuga. What is it that you wish?”

His solemn chuckling having just come to an end, Yuga’s malicious side slipped through the cracks of his composure. He shook his head, cackling to himself through gritted teeth. His next words were growled through tears. “That horrid land gone. I wish all of Hyrule to fall on its knees before me, its people begging us to forgive what they've done. Then, I want it reduced to dust.”

“Then we share similar goals, Lord of Lorule,” Zant smiled. He sensed weakness and dug his jaws in. “What of our Master? Would you not wish him back?”

Fury bulged through the veins in Yuga’s neck. “... Pay… They’ll pay for taking him from us. From ME! Of course I wish for him. It feels like I’ve lost a limb, Zant. Like a part of me has atrophied. But a childish wish like that…”

Just as Yuga faltered again, Zant held him tighter, leaning into his field of vision. “Would you believe me if I told you, that there is a way? To feel his presence, for his power to dwell in you?”

Yuga’s head fell, his voice whittling down to a whimper. “... Mercy…”

“You say you want vengeance. To reduce Hyrule to dust. Then we have that in common, Lord of Lorule!”

As fiercely as he did tenderly, Zant cupped Yuga’s face in his hands. At once forced to look straight at the other man, the first face he’s earnestly met in what may have been weeks, Yuga widened his eyes in surprise. Then, as the sad figure froze in his hands, Zant lunged down and kissed him firmly on the forehead.

Yuga yelped in surprise, his frame seizing up. Then convulsing, as a powerful pulse emitted from the both of them, strong enough to rattle the room and all its inhabitants. A grey, runed pallor spread through Yuga’s skin for just a heartbeat. As small as that glimpse of power had been, it was enough for him to burst into tears. Clinging to Zant’s breeches, he sobbed, and wailed, and pleaded. As simple as that, a new allegiance was forged. 

Ghirahim’s eye trailed from the gray hand stroking and soothing the mourning sorcerer’s shoulder, up to Zant’s face. When their eyes met, a triumphant, subtly vicious smile flashed back at him. What a dangerous ally he’d made.

Time came to free their other prisoner. By now, their forces had fought all the way up to the door to Yuga’s impromptu holding cell. A proper entourage was waiting for them at last. The last words exchanged and his tears dried, Yuga shifted in his seat. In his lap, he still held a black handkerchief, greyed, faded, and laces frayed, where listless hands had wrung the wetted fabric. 

Their lieutenant made some wantful gesture behind him. “My crutches, please, I –” He struggled for a moment, hissing against the movement of his sore legs. “My apologies, I haven’t moved from this spot in quite some time.”

One of Yuga’s crutches turned out broken, doubtlessly during the same chaos that razed through the room he was confined in. Yuga paid the rest of the room no heed as they departed, making a clear effort to aim his gaze at nothing but the exit. Unpracticed as he was with but one crutch, Ghirahim joined his vulnerable side. It was a sorely uncomfortable affair. Both of them, in mourning, regretting the death of the one who symbolized their previous Masters. Yet, Ghirahim himself was composed, while the one currently hanging on his arm was a blubbering mess. Hidden behind a black veil was he, with reddened, puffed-over eyes, his gaunt cheeks, and the flaky skin on his fingers, drenched in tear-stained eczema. His despair truly made him ugly.

Though, he supposed Yuga had stayed by his Master’s side until the very end. Abandonment, betrayal, such forces would never come to stifle whatever sadness came to rear its head in the poor wretched Lorian. 

Ghirahim knew the raw spot his companion carried on his person now all too well. In his envy of such open weeping, he felt inclined to rip it open. At the risk of a warning glare from Zant, he broke his silence.

“I have to know, Yuga. That final hour. Did he die with glory?”

Yuga swallowed, sucked in a choked breath. He stumbled for a moment. Was it truly so easy to topple his composure like this? How delightfully weak.

“Never before have I seen such power. Such raw, glorious fury, encapsulating all he stood for. He was everything, Ghirahim,” were the words he landed upon, final like the closing of a book.

Their violent chaperones huddled like a shield around the three of them, they traversed the swirling halls of the Temple. They did so in silence, mostly, with Zant too focused on tracking the Ring Spirit’s vague magical aura, and the other pair, too engrossed in their own thoughts to waste any words. The deeper they crossed into the Temple, the less disturbance they received. Snarling against their foes, the Bulblin soldiers guarding their flanks fought off the few that dared pursue them into this labyrinth. 

As though breaking free from a spell, Yuga mustered the decency to speak to the one assisting him in walking. He turned to Ghirahim with a slight smile. “You have contempt for him, don’t you, Ghirahim? He broke his promise to you.”

Ghirahim did not respond. The way he shifted his gaze to the floor could have been taken as a refusal to answer, but really, he was just considering the thought for his own curiosity. Contempt? Was he capable of feeling such things for his Masters? How would he go about picking such feelings out from between the mountain of disappointment, sadness, and guilt? This overall inadequacy?

Yuga did not let him consider for long. His smile turned wistful as he spoke. “I tried for you, you know. When he was in one of his rare, fair moods, I’d approach him, and I’d ask, ‘Master, would it really be so terrible if you took him to your next battle? That boy cares for you so, it pains me to see him so neglected’. And do you know what he said?”

Yuga’s words almost shocked him. Fond reminiscence over mutual loss of a meaningful person. Common among mortals, but unheard of for him. How quaint. He’d never had a conversation like this before. The novelty of it alone made Ghirahim set his frustrations with Yuga aside, if only to see as many sides of this exchange as possible. “No. What did he say?”

Yuga mustered a laugh, lowering his voice somewhat in imitation of their Ganondorf. “ ‘That ‘boy’ of yours,’ he said, ‘is a millennia old weapon. You’d do better not to make him go soft’. A hopeless affair, it was! Even for me!”

The realization that Yuga had vouched for him, pleaded for wishes in his stead, without his knowing or urging, weighed on a part of his mind he didn’t recognize. What a strange favor… Ghirahim looked to the man beside him, now seeing an ally… No, a friend, he hadn’t known he had. 

His own ignorance, paired with the thorough typicality of Yuga’s words, brought him a burst of laughter. Yes, that was how their Master was, exactly! “He was right, you know.”

And though Yuga joined him in his laughter, Ghirahim turned away just as his companion was distracted by nostalgic mirth, to hide sadness of his own. That simple exchange confirmed it. The truth settled heavily in his soul. Ganondorf never intended to wield him. Never had, never would. He swallowed the finality of it all and bore the thorns it drove into his throat with silence.

After a long trek through foggy corridors, Zant stopped. To their right stood a door, at first glance unremarkable, with its mundane size and simple wooden frame. Stepping closer, one would notice it completely plastered in talismans. Different colors, shapes, sizes – Ghirahim thought he could even distinguish different scripts. The Hyruleans were thorough with their wards, for even the Demon Lord felt an unpleasant sting standing near the door. Had Wizzro been kept there, these wards would certainly be keeping him firmly trapped inside. 

To the living, though, such things were mere strips of paper, and Zant began idly picking at their edges to peel them right off the door. As he did so, Ghirahim cast a bored look to where they came from, squinting against the persisting fog. He wondered if they’d be able to make it back.

With the talismans removed, the lot of them passed through to find some matter of lodging, perhaps one meant for servants or guests. Its furnishings were mostly empty, save for some boxes and trinkets scattered around the shelves. But, more importantly, there sat a plain jewelry box upon the dressing table, a big, bright red talisman sticking it shut.

Zant seemed to notice his gawking and sidled up beside him. “I do believe I have kept you bored this entire siege. If you would like to do the honors…”

Yuga now taken off his hands, Ghirahim accepted Zant’s offer. He approached the box, and though the talisman itched his fingers through his gloves, he peeled it off no problem. 

Almost immediately, the jewelry box began to shake. Cacophonous jingling of little accessories grated the ears, until a murky, groaning sound muffled all else. At once, the box shot open, a shadowy form bursting forth with clawed hands and gnashing teeth.

“A damn fool you are, to let me out of –” Wizzro roared, only to sheepishly fold into himself once he saw who stood before him. He let out an awkward chuckle. “Ah, erm, gentlemen. Hhhhi.” His mouth closed, then shifted into an eye, which darted between the three men before him. He lingered particularly on Zant, whose magic output evidently made him the biggest presence in the room. Naturally, a Spirit such as Wizzro couldn’t wrestle his attention away from such a phenomenon if he wanted to. “You’ll have to excuse me for the outburst. You see I’ve been eh, locked in that box for – How long, Yuga?”

“Beats me,” said Yuga, unenthused about being involved in the conversation.

“Yes, you get the idea. Quite a bit. Stewing in rage the whole time. You know how it is.”

Ghirahim raised a brow, having stood there deadpanned this entire exchange thusfar. “Sure.”

“Either way, so,” Wizzro said, turning away from them to hide his face. He rummaged around in the box for a bit, plucked his own ring out, and twisted it nervously around his finger. “There’s something… New, housing itself in you, isn’t there, Zant?”

Zant simply stared.

“I take it we’re under new management?”

Now, Zant smiled. “You learn fast. Yes, Wizzro. I will be requiring your services.”

“How much… Bargaining space, do you allot me, Twili? You should know, a spirit like me is in high demand.”

“I know every inch of that fickle mind of yours, Wizzro. You shall have nothing to complain about. And if you did, I would give you reason not to.”

“ Oh yeah. You haven’t changed. Good, good. Very well, then. When do we start?”

“Right away, Wizzro, my good man,” said Zant, holding out his hand as if offering to shake it. Pointedly, his right, so that Wizzro would have no choice but to join hands with his ring in the middle. Ghirahim exchanged a look with the poor sod as he floated by to accept, and found him more nervous than he’d ever seen him.

The shriek that rang throughout the room the second they shook on their pact confirmed that Wizzro had good reason to be nervous. Something told Ghirahim the conniving rat wouldn’t be giving them too much trouble from here on out. With that out of the way, the group of them, reunited at last, turned back down the hallway. There were still rats in the Temple, after all, and no King worth his salt would be caught dead with vermin in his home.

One last ally remained, and he may have been the most difficult to persuade. Frankly, Ghirahim wasn’t enthused about this one, but they were strapped for commanders. His personal opinions, therefore, meant very little. So, there they stood, at the mouth of the Northern Eldin Cave system. Naturally, as they had succeeded in doing so before, their army would greatly benefit from recruiting an entire clan of dragons. Now that Hyrule had succeeded in doing the same, they could not afford to lose their own. 

Thus Zant described it to his co-lieutenants. It was just the two of them today, leaving Yuga to rest and Wizzro to tend to administration. Ghirahim was simply tagging along as his scabbard, as he usually did, these days. To-day, he was glad for it. He wasn’t particularly enthused about the idea of holding a conversation about the dreadful bore that was Volga, Dragon Knight. And he was certain it was Volga they were meeting with. The Dragons of this world hold boundless wisdom, though very few are equipped with the ability to relay it in mortal tongue. This left the Fire Dragons of Eldin with no option but to send their representative before the Twilight King. With the occasional gigantic serpentine head peeping in from the tunnels, Volga met them in solitary attendance, held emphatically close by the entrance of the cave system.

“Sir Volga. We meet again,” announced Zant.

Volga, though clearly displeased by even the sight of his two ‘guests’, kept an impressively stiff upper lip before them. “You know very well I do not bother with formalities. State your business.”

“My conquering of the Seer’s territory surely has not slipped your notice.”

“It has not.”

“You will also expect that I am not content with this alone. Even after Ganondorf’s defeat, Hyrule remains contested ground. Your people, too, have stakes in this. This dwelling alone convinces me. Your relatives hunching through the tunnels behind you, I presume, are far too large, too numerous, to dwell in the caves of a nursery. You wish to expand.”

With a pound of his spear, Volga scoffed, though he did not smile. “Clearly you know everything. Yet you bother to come and interrogate me. Why?”

“I simply thought a little sympathy might prove my good intentions to you.”

Volga, unlike many, saw through Zant’s sweetened words remarkably quickly. That was just about the one of the few things Ghirahim appreciated about him: the man’s resolve was like steel. “Silence! I will not hear another word. Shadow Lord, you are an open book. Next, you thought to offer some grand compromise, a way to use my people as your pawns. 

I decline!“

At lack of response, Volga held his pike at the ready, fire pooling from between his teeth. “I will not repeat myself. Leave!”

Zant chuckled from behind his helmet, padding backward in resignation. But Ghirahim could see this surrender was completely false. Inside those massive sleeves, his fingers itched and twiddled. So Ghirahim steeled himself, his hands tense behind his back.

As he predicted, once Zant joined his side, he jerked his head toward him with violent anticipation. With a snap of his fingers, Ghirahim’s cloak disappeared, his chest exposed. Zant hesitated not even a second to rip his scimitar from its scabbard and bear down on the Dragon Warrior with voracity. 

Ghirahim, naturally, could not stand idly by. Volga’s fighting style was far more exciting to him than the dolt himself, and Ghirahim eagerly seized the opportunity to witness it up close. With a whirlwind-strength spin of his polearm, gashes formed across the torsos of both Volga’s opponents. Yet it deterred neither of them. Furious blows were exchanged between the embers bursting through the air, the temperature in the tunnels at once reaching a scorching heat. Had it just been him and the Dragon, Ghirahim thought, this battle would have been delightfully equally matched, and he would have been eager to tear victory from his clawed gauntlets at the very last second. As it stood, Zant was there also, weakened only by his lack of killing intent. Ghirahim had almost gotten carried away by the thrill of battle – they were there to oh-so-diplomatically convince Volga, not murder him outright. Playtime was over soon. The butt end of Volga’s spear shot towards him, and he surrendered through a refusal to dodge. As Ghirahim tumbled back onto the stone floor, he watched as Zant stood poorly guarded before the warrior now barreling towards him… And suddenly, the Twilight King disappeared.

There was a mere flash of confusion when Zant vanished from sight. Volga had but a second to check his surroundings before his adversary appeared behind him, his spell-drenched hands now enclosed over his eyes.

A sizzle. He screamed. Ghirahim could only catch a glimpse of what Zant had done between Volga’s frantic clawing at his face, but it was enough to draw the conclusion. Slowly, but surely, a metallic, black mask was spreading across his eyes and fusing to his helmet. As Volga stumbled around the corridor, swinging wildly to find either an anchor or the wicked man who did this to him, the darkness down the cave began to clear. 

Looming above the group of men was the rest of the draconic Clan, glaring at them with piercing teal eyes. Some bared their teeth in rage, tongues lashing and sulfurous drool burning holes into the floor, while others swelled their throat sacs, bright and glowing with kindling flame. 

Yet Zant stood comfortably, almost oblivious to it all. Ghirahim came to put himself between the Twili and the panicking knight, with his blade drawn to threaten the foes before them. But something told him that even without this measure of protection, Zant would have had the same poise. 

Zant spread his arms amicably. His upturned hands served as a gesture of peace, but the slight shimmer in the air betrayed it as a somatic command also, for shields to protect him from the dragons’ rage.

“You wish to have him back, no? Volga is a formidable warrior.”

Deaf and blind to his surroundings, Volga began to shift, as if cracking through the shell of his current form could save him from this blight. It did not – red scales turned to pitch black, jagged and pulsing with cyan magic. Ghirahim kicked the nuisance in the horn when he threatened to get too close.

Zant continued his oration. “Then hear me! If it is Eldin that you want, then my Kingdom shall have space for you. I merely request one favor in return: assist me in taking over Hyrule Castle. Doubtlessly, the Princess will have similar plans to my own, and I need the might of your people to overpower her.”

The teeth of his helmet clattering to expose half his face, Zant smiled. “Does that not sound so violently simple?”

The serpentine heads above them growled, their wild eyes darting between each other. Some snarled, baring their teeth, others squinted, and yet others bowed their heads in resignation. With the loss of their interpreter, the beasts had no way to communicate with this strange adversary. But, after what looked like some squabbling, of nipping at one another and snorting steaming breaths, the hostile among them hesitantly turned and retreated into the caves. The largest dragon remaining locked eyes with Zant and nodded.

Zant’s gentle smile from before turned into a wide grin. With a clap of his hands, Volga stopped struggling. At once, he shrunk in on himself, his draconian features reverting back to humanoid ones. But he was different from before. His armor remained pitch black, jagged and pointy, his eyes covered by a visor that seemed melded to his flesh. 

“I will return him to you when Hyrule Castle is secure and my usurpation is finished,” said Zant, nonchalantly under the eyes of the shocked dragons. Doubtlessly, they expected him to revert the curse. “Until then, he will follow me just like this. I’ve found he gets rather uppity when you don’t keep the reins tight… Now, farewell!”

Volga followed Zant wordlessly, like a drone, as the latter cheerfully turned to waltz right back out of the cave. Ghirahim shot one pitying look at the Dragon Warrior’s remaining clan, whose hearts collectively crumbled, and turned to follow.

With three more high-ranking officials under his belt, Zant’s life as a royal stabilized, turned almost mundane. The Temple claimed as their home base, the next phase of his conquering creaked to a slow start, gears a-turning. Piles upon piles of correspondence stacked on his desk, Zant himself laid low, having his commanders at their territory’s borders keep his little place free from violence. It seemed to be working splendidly, because their pretentious pontifex of a King was taking full liberty to have some time off. Ghirahim stood at the staff entrance of the Temple, hands in his sides, waiting for the shadows in the distance to get a little closer. 

Drawing near were Zant, riding the very same Bullbo he once carried the defeated Zelda on (he’d developed a fondness for the beast and was very pleased to discover it was still alive); and Lord Dargas, reigning Duke of Tarm. The plan seemed to be to pamper that wretched noble… Something about guaranteeing them a spot in Holodrum, in case they wanted to expand territories. Ghirahim watched the man fuss over his mustache and depend on three separate pages to get his arse down from his ludicrously sized horse and wondered if they couldn’t have picked some other vaguely rebellious province for that scheme.

Ghirahim stepped aside to let through three Bulblins pulling a cart containing the spoils of their hunt, to find Zant trailing not far behind them. Said Twili came up to him smiling brightly.

Such a smile did nothing to Ghirahim. “So. Did you have fun dodging your responsibilities with our good Duke? I don’t see what you’re stalling for.”

“To you it may seem like stalling,” Zant said, handing the massive spear he’d wielded over to a waiting squire. The weapon was so stupidly large, even an oaf like him wouldn’t miss. “But this, too, is part of politics.”

Ghirahim bumped him just a touch too casually for polite company. Said polite company pranced past them, his suit fully in order and dusted off, and the three of them exchanged a cordial greeting.

Ghirahim’s expression soured the second the Duke was out of view. “You’re trying to win simple favors, now? How very unlike you.”

“Perhaps, but I’ve put it to the test,” Zant began, placing a hand on Ghirahim’s shoulder to lead him into the garden. “For a King, there are two ways to assert his authority. The first would be appeasement; the second, tyranny, forcing obedience purely through violence. Considering your status as Demon Lord, I need not guess which of the two you are more familiar with.”

Ghirahim grinned. “And you are not?” 

“Oh, I am. Most intimately, in fact. Tyranny is how I claimed Hyrule initially, and it is how Ganondorf led his army, as well. Coincidentally, both attempts failed, resulting in our deaths.”

“So you’ve decided to play nice,” Ghirahim teased, nudging Zant’s hand so it could slip to the small of his back.

“Not exactly… Relying on appeasement alone would require resources that we lack. Those of noble blood want extravagance and their every wish fulfilled. Which is where my experience with Twilit politics will serve me well…” Zant trailed off a moment, kicking a perished rose branch into the shrubbery. “Tell me, Ghirahim-ili. What impression would it give to freshly war-torn people, to be met with a new competitor of the throne, who immediately throws luxurious parties?”

Ghirahim gave it some thought. “I’d imagine it could go either which way. Either you assert yourself as resourceful, or you might strike them as a pompous prick who doesn’t know how to handle his own wealth.” Which wouldn’t be too far off, he thought to himself.

“Precisely. That is a gamble I cannot afford at this stage. So, we show them hospitality, a willingness to listen to their demands… But, just as Hyrule does, we have a trump card.”

Zant lifted his hand, his long sleeve dropping down to flash the mark of Power.

“Connection to the divine. I have claimed the Triforce of Power, as none before me could ever achieve, and I’ve wielded its power to seize the North. Any unwillingness to cave to my demands will be quickly snuffed out under the threat of such a force.”

“A solid middle ground, then.”

“So you could say.”

“I take it, then, that our Summit is being held soon?”

“Yes. The Duke of Tarm just so happens to be the first to arrive,” Zant said, turning to the stables behind them. Just as he stood and watched, the prey he’d claimed was being wheeled in through the back door – a large boar, only marginally smaller than his mount. Both found it macabre, a bit of a cruel joke, one that made Ghirahim turn back and Zant grin all the wider. “I’ve extended invitations to just about all our former allies. Not a soul will be missing out – Unlike Ganondorf, I will not be playing favorites. Our forces need to know they can depend on us.”

Such a bold comment made Ghirahim shake off his discomfort in an instant. He sidled up closer to his monarch, nudging him through his thick robes. “Ah… So you have no favorites, none at all?”

Zant smirked, locking this boldness in place by curling his arm around Ghirahim firmly, affectionately. “Well… Perhaps, Demonkind as of late, has been landing on my good side quite often…”

Laughing, making jabs, huddled in the arms of a man who could crush him. To once again linger in the shadows of a greater ruler, but never losing prominence – like the gem-lain hilt of a blade glistening in the shade of a warrior’s cape. No longer would he have demand over the absolute spotlight, but rather, he would share it with a King, who in turn was completed by the sword he’d wield, his deadly tool of choice. A thousand years it had been, from his point of view, since Ghirahim had last lived like this. It was as nostalgic, as the lethargy of it all made his skin crawl. For now, it did little good to struggle against his overshadowing. He reminded himself that this feeling was what he’d chased ever since his revival… But his choice of pseudo-wielder was, to put it lightly, irking to a painful degree. 

The playing field had to be leveled a little bit. He reached over to deliver a harsh pinch to the delicate underside of the Twilight King’s upper arm and reveled in the pathetic shriek it evoked.

[sotwk]

Got any headcanon about Thranduils relationship with his assistant, Feren?

OhMySqueeeee! I ADORE FEREN. Love or hate The Hobbit Trilogy, he is one of the best created-for-film characters to come out of those movies. He is its Lindir equivalent!

Feren will gradually develop into an important supporting character in the SotWK AU. I've even created an additional OC to be his twin sister; her name is Celuwen and she will also be an important side character in the series. (Both make guest appearances in my recent Young Legolas fic, "Greenleaf's Tree".)

For now, here are the key points I have regarding Feren's character history and his relationship with Thranduil and his family:

SotWK Canon Spotlight: Feren, Captain of the Mirkwood Kingsguard

Feren is a full-blooded Silvan elf, born and raised in the southern regions of Greenwood the Great in Third Age 142. (Exactly 100 years older than Legolas and Tauriel.)

His father is a woodcutter and his mother a hunter--both esteemed professions in the realm.

His bookish twin sister Celuwen became a royal scribe at the remarkably young age of 90. Feren followed her into the employ of King Thranduil as a palace guard.

After just a few years, Feren was given a position in the royal escort.

Feren serves Thranduil's family for his entire career, becoming close friends with the princes, especially Gelir and Legolas. (see his banter with them in the fic, "Unnecessary Guardian")

Thranduil was constantly impressed by Feren's loyalty, courage, and trustworthiness. He appointed Feren as the youngest member of his Kingsguard in Third Age 672.

When Dol Guldur rose around Third Age 1000 and the southern parts of the realm grew increasingly infested by the Necromancer's dark creatures, Feren was dismayed by the devastation wrought upon his birthland.

He requested placement in the spiderhunters, a newly-formed company of specialized soldiers led by Prince Gelir. This was a demotion for him into a less prestigious and more dangerous job, but it put him where he wanted to be--at the frontline of Mirkwood's defenses.

But eventually, over a thousand years later, Feren found his way back into the direct service of the Elvenking. Thranduil chose him specifically for the leadership position of Captain of the Kingsguard. This is very different from the "captain" position Tauriel seems to have in the films. The Kingsguard rides alongside Thranduil in battle or any dangerous situation, and their sole task is to keep the King safe--a tremendous challenge and responsibility!

While Feren is in essence a high-ranking bodyguard and right hand of sorts to Thranduil, he is not an assistant. The "assistant" role is more accurately fulfilled by Celuwen, Feren's sister. By TA 555, she has become the royal family's secretary, a job she holds longer than any Elf in the realm (but that's another story for later).

Thranduil comes to depend on these twins greatly, especially after the loss of his sons and wife. They grow as dear to him as family, as they have always been utterly devoted to their King and ever refused to leave his service.

Even Queen Maereth has jokingly/lovingly referred to Feren and Celuwen as "the twin children we never had". (Twins run in her family.)

Thank you for the Ask, Anon! I hope more people will join me in the Feren Fan Club! I hope to put out more material for him soon! Such a sweetie!

For more Thranduil/Mirkwood headcanons: SotWK HC Masterlist

Elves HC Tag List: @a-world-of-whimsy-5 @achromaticerebus @acornsandoaktrees @aduialel @asianbutnotjapanese @auttumnsayshi @blueberryrock @conversacomsmaug @elan-ho-detto-elan-15 @entishramblings @freshalmondpandadonut @fizzyxcustard @friendofthefellowshipsnerdblog @glassgulls @heilith @heranintomyknife23times @ladyweaslette @laneynoir @lathalea @lemonivall @LiliDurin @quickslvxrr @ratsys @scyllas-revenge @spacecluster @stormchaser819 @talkdifferently6 @tamryniel @tamurilofrivendell

Other useful links:

Introduction to SotWK

Fanfiction Masterlist

Fanfiction Request Guidelines

[thiziri]

The Princess Royal visits the United Arab Emirates.

The Princess Royal has visited Dubai, the United Arab Emirates, as President of The Mission to Seafarers (MtS).

The Mission to Seafarers (MtS) provides help and support to the 1.89 million men and women who face danger every day to keep the global economy afloat. MtS works in over 200 ports in 50 countries caring for seafarers of all ranks, nationalities and beliefs. 

Through its global network of chaplains, staff and volunteers, MtS offers practical, emotional and spiritual support to seafarers through ship visits, drop-in seafarers' centres and a range of welfare and emergency support services.

On arrival in Dubai, Her Royal Highness visited DP World’s Jebel Ali Port, the busiest port in the Middle East. Here, Her Royal Highness heard about the innovative technology being used at the port which includes electrified and automated high bay storage stacker cranes. 

The Princess Royal also saw a demonstration of container transfer from ship to shore before meeting the port’s Operations team, frontline workers and the MtS welfare team.

Following this, The Princess Royal attended a Women in Shipping and Trading Conference Panel Discussion to hear more about the importance of seafarers’ welfare with an emphasis on women in shipping and trade. 

During the visit, Her Royal Highness also opened the new Donnelly Lines facilities at Al-Minhad Air Base. 

The new HQ, welfare and accommodation facilities are named after Sergeant William ‘Billy’ Donnelly, an RAF navigator who died in UAE on 14th February 1943 after his aircraft suffered an oil leak. The facilities will support British service personnel at the Airbase. 

As President of the Royal Yachting Association (RYA), The Princess Royal toured Dubai Offshore Sailing Club, the region’s largest RYA training centre, and met dedicated volunteers who have promoted sailing and other competitive non-motorised water sports to communities in the United Arab Emirates since the Club was established in 1974.

Her Royal Highness ended the day in Dubai with a dinner hosted by representatives from MtS.

© Royal UK

[monstersdownthepath]

Monster Spotlight: Jotund Troll

CR 15

Chaotic Evil Huge Humanoid

Bestiary 3, pg. 272

The largest and most powerful of trollkind by far, the Jotund Trolls are also among the most savage and demanding. While other trolls may band together to form societies--simple as they are--the Jotund have no time or patience to settle down in one place and no desire for the company of other trolls aside from the very occasional moments they're driven to mate. The closest thing to 'society' a Jotund may take part in is bullying other Giants (especially Ogres) into subservience and leading them into destructive warbands which terrorize entire countrysides until brave heroes arise to stop them, eschewing teaming up with other trolls to assure that they don't have to compete with any stomach more ravenous than their own.

Despite their solitary nature, Jotund Trolls aren't exactly starved for company. They are, after all, societies unto themselves; every one of the nine heads on a Jotund Troll has a brain and a personality of its own, and most heroic parties hunting one down have located their quarry simply because of the loud arguments and debates each head gets into with the other about... well, just about everything, from who controls which limb to who gets what bite of which food. Notably, adult Jotund Trolls always have nine heads, no more and no less. Whether this is some magical quirk of their biology or because there's no room for another head is left ambiguous, as is their true origins; they may be chosen offspring of the Trollfather (or his most hated children, seeing as how he's 'cursed' them to always be around more trolls), but the Giants of Jotungard are claimed to have created them as a means to test their warrior mettle, though if this is true, their experiment has obviously gone terribly awry! Now the Jotund wander freezing hillsides and cold marshlands, gorging on every living thing their eighteen eyes catches on.

With a metabolism so extreme that they essentially have to eat a ton (as in the unit of measurement, not a hyperbolic intensifier) of meat every day just to keep from starving, a single Jotund Troll is a walking extinction event that can quickly depopulate huge stretches of land, with enough individual strength to let them compete for territory with just about anything but dragons... and even then, only specific kinds of dragons, as their rampant Regeneration 10 is only shut down by Fire and Acid damage. There's little that will keep a Jotund from its meal, even if it must contend with creatures with far more magical power and finesse than them. They don't need finesse.

The Jotund is a simple beast, like most trolls. It wields entire uprooted trees as clubs sized for a Huge creature, swinging upwards to three times for 2d6+10 damage each, or 4d6+10 once a round with Vital Strike, and the bonuses they get to attack rolls from their tremendous size means they can freely use Power Attack to take a meager -4 penalty to their rolls to get +8 to damage. If it gets the opportunity to make a Full-Attack, it can also use its empty claw for 1d8+5 damage and lean down to bite once for 2d6+5... but the claw and bite are more dangerous than they look, as both Grab any creature they hit, and the Jotund has Fast Swallow to instantly shovel a grabbed victim directly into its shared stomach, where such unfortunates take 4d6+15 damage a round until they die or escape.

In a pitched battle where the party has finally gotten into position, a Jotund can force the frontliners into a lose-lose; they have Awesome Blow to take a standard action knocking a single enemy 10ft backwards, and while that doesn't SOUND impressive, these titanspawn have a 15ft space AND 15ft reach, so if one it swats you away if you're adjacent to it, being knocked 10ft back still means you're in its threat radius, but it is no longer in yours. What's worse is that you also fall prone, forcing you to waste time and actions standing back up... which means the troll can AoO you with its club or bite, potentially grappling you, and if you can't get free by the time its turn rolls around, it can Fast Swallow you straight out of the fight for another round or two while it mauls the rest of the party. Not a bad use of a standard action!

Though Jotund Trolls don't have Rend like their smaller cousins, they don't truly need it. A successful bite attack threatens to remove a fighter from combat, but thankfully they can only make one bite attack a round! ... right? Wrong! Their nine heads give them many bonuses, like All-Around Vision and Multiple Minds, but the one we're focusing on right now is All-Seeing Attacks, allowing the Jotund to make nine Attacks of Opportunity each round, making its space and reach even more of a painful mire to wade through. It's unlikely to ever NEED all nine attacks, but it certainly makes snacking on crowds of fleeing citizens and animals hilariously easy. Yes, hitting creatures with its club is good and all, but snatching up and Grabbing a bunch of people with its bite attacks is the REAL threat, because come its turn, Fast Swallow means it can immediately try to eat ALL OF THEM.

Those nine heads also give the Jotund some invaluable defenses, as previously mentioned; All-Around Vision means it's nearly impossible to sneak up on the troll and flat out impossible to flank it, cutting down on the danger it faces from Sneak Attacks and coordinated parties alike... but it also has Multiple Minds, giving it the power to shunt mental attacks on to a head that's not really doing much. This renders the Jotund immune to confusion and insanity, grants it a +4 to Will saves versus all mind-affecting effects (for a total of +17), AND it rolls ALL Will saves (not just versus mind-affecting effects) twice and takes the better result. The normally-reliable 'ensorcel/debuff the stupid brute monster' has a very, very low chance of actually working against the Jotund, which may catch a Hex-spamming Witch, hopeful Mesmerist, or Enchanter Wizard fatally off-guard.

Though the Jotund is immune to confusion itself, it can dole it out with a Cacophonous Roar, an earsplitting sound it can unleash as a standard action every 1d4 rounds. Anything caught in the area has to make a DC 20 Will save or be rendered confused for 1d4 rounds as well, leaving victims fumbling with their equipment, their words, or even their attack actions as the monstrous troll closes in to beat them into a paste, each head clamoring for the choicest bits. The potential whimsy of the troll's heads loudly arguing with each other over who gets to eat what parts and in which order is, perhaps, needed during an encounter with one of these horrors, and is something I wholeheartedly encourage using. Talking is a free action, and they've got nine heads to do it from!

You can read more about them here.

[holywaterinmybong]

Blessed are the righteous

—

A sunlight hurting glance

Your shadow’s who I really be

Not susceptible to pills

Say “manage it with therapy”

Soulmate lifetime comradeship

With you just temporarily

Face to fist, I’m off my shit

Allegedly, apparently

Face to fist

And blade to wrist

But everyone keeps talking

‘Bout who I texted, who I kissed

or who I’m currently fucking

Since what you took or what you did

Forever what you’re meant for

I’m everyone I’ve ever hit

Or hated to my core

Now the city grows smaller

You won’t find me here

Anymore, not in cinema stalls

Or in words of a prayer

On thé lips of whoever

Claimed that they still miss me

Not always about me

At least the police

Will not know any name

That at once I went by

Just a new case this month

And a dead junkie guy

I will make this about me once more

Actually

‘Cause you all said I’m crazy

And then claimed to be free

Claimed to reach your potential

Or a new way of coping

This place got so cold

And now my neck I’m roping

“Won’t see you again”

“Don’t call me”

Here’s to hoping!

A try and a fail

On a balcony rail

On the end of a switchblade

Or a 44 mag

In a bathtub too shallow

Or red plastic bag

The righteous I bless

It’s a hard path to walk by

Bite down on my fist

For I tried, I’d still try

But I’d kill for each person

That I claimed to love

From the kindness of strangers

To a god sent white dove

Who is here nonetheless

Though I’m her biggest stress

If I hurt anyone

I do not second guess

A decision that spares

Or redeems me at least

Now the sun’s going down

And I’m facing the east

Got a fucking long list

Of the people i owe

From first grade scraped up knees

To club stalls lined with blow

Not a lifestyle I want to

Be remembered by

I lied, man, don’t know

If I still can get high

Like I lied about classes

And lied that I’m bi

I lie about loving

And loving to lie

Got too many people

With shit to address to

Don’t want to frighten

Or hurt or depress you

But In the trenches we’ll meet

If you once more fall lower

On a radio call

“Six feet under, man. Over”

Come find me

Weren’t you

At some point my best friend?

know you didn’t replace me

Message I didn’t send

Hope you do it real soon

Like the rest of the gang

And one day you’ll all meet

And alone I will hang

Out of options, ideas

I’ve already got

All I could ever need

Leave it out for the rot

Half of me on the frontlines

Half at our old smoke spot

[charmedcleric]

Get to know your tav!

I was tagged by the lovely @auspex-author Thank you so much for the tag!

Her name is Athena and she is my war domain cleric of eilistraee. Her character sheet is here and this post is very long so I’ll put most of it under the cut! Once I start talking about my tavs I literally can’t stop, also I talk about her relationship with rolan a little bit so that’s why he’s tagged <3

What is your tav’s….

favorite weapon?

- Athena’s favourite weapon is a longsword you find in act 1 called the Phalar Aluve

style of combat?

- She is usually in the frontline swinging her singing sword while casting spirit guardians. She also loves ambushing, as it’s a great way to get advantage over others

most prized possession?

- Athena has two lockets that she wears 24/7. One locket was a gift to her from her mother. The other locket belonged to her sister. Athena’s mother had a tradition to get each of her children a matching locket with a photo of the family in it to remind them that no matter what happens they are with them all the time. As Athena’s parents and sister had passed away she had both the lockets on her at all times to feel close to her family

deepest desire?

- To have a family of her own. She was orphaned at the age of 14 and became her little sisters full time carer. 4 years later her sister got very ill, so Athena became a cleric to help look after and heal her.

Her healing magic helped her sister stay alive for 5 years until her sister Rose succumbed to her illness and passed away. Athena felt empty as she now had no family left and she felt as if she had failed as a cleric. She would love nothing more than to have a family to call her own, yet it’s one of the things she fears most as she doesn’t want to let anyone else down

guilty pleasure?

- Athena’s guilty pleasure is gossiping, she knows she shouldn’t but she loves listening in on others business. Her, astarion and shadowheart basically have a gossiping club at this point where they tell each other all the juicy stuff

best-kept secret?

- That she is a sword dancer of eilistraee. A sword dancer is a specialized priestess (cleric) of Eilistraee. Athena had been a follower of eilistraee since she was little but once her sister died leaving her to be the last in her family, she felt as if the only thing she had left was her religion. She decided that she wanted to become a sword dancer. As she already lived on the surface becoming a sword dancer was slightly easier as to become one you must spend at least a month on the surface dancing each moonlit night for eilistraee and you had to witness dawn at least once.

She also went and offered her services at the Promenade of the Dark Maiden, she wasn’t there for long before she was taken by the nautiloid.

greatest strength?

- Her dedication, when she puts her mind to something or she wants something she will get it

fatal flaw?

- She blames herself a bit to much and she shuts down while doing it. This is seen when rolan yelled at her in the shadow lands and even after saving the tieflings from moonrise she still wasn’t herself and became very quiet for some time although she didn’t let that stop her from her task of infiltrating moonrise towers

favorite smell?

- She loves the smell of freshly baked bread, it reminds her of home when her mother would bake bread for the family in the mornings

*bit of post game lore of Athena x rolan hehe* when Rolan found this out he always made sure that there was bread being freshly baked in the kitchen each morning, nothing made him happier than seeing the smile on Athena’s face each and every morning. Of course when Athena would ask him if he was doing it for her and if he would ask them to also make some of her other fav bakery goods, he would of course deny what she said and tell her to not be greedy lmao

favorite spell or cantrip?

- She loves AOE spells such as glyph of warding and flame strike

pet peeve?

- She hates lying, she can usually see through people when it comes to lying and she makes sure that they know she isn’t happy especially if it’s someone she considers a friend or someone she has more intimate feelings for

bad habit?

- When she is nervous or stewing over something she plays with her hair and pulls out strands of her hair. The only companion that called her out on it was karlach, but as this was a habit Athena wasn’t actually aware she was doing she dismissed karlach’s worry

She was then called out by rolan which made her kinda pull back, shocked he would notice something like that (she thought he hated her) she was now well aware she was doing it and actively tries to avoid doing it. She also went and apologized to karlach for dismissing her worry

hidden talent?

- She is really good at lock picking , she likes to joke that she could give astarion a run for his money which he doesn’t agree with of course. She never lets him forget about when he was struggling to open a chest and after like 100 goes Athena had a go and immediately lock-picked it lmao (based on when astarion failed lock-picking like 20 times and then when i got Athena to have a go she got a NAT 20 lol)

leisure activity?

- Painting/drawing and singing. Before she became a cleric she would paint and sell her artwork on the city streets of waterdeep that’s how she made money to keep her and her sister alive. Now whenever she gets a free chance she will sit down and draw/paint landscapes until the sun goes down. And while she is painting she will be singing or humming along to one of her favourite songs

favorite drink?

- She loves a plain cup of coffee, she has a lot on her mind and she feels coffee helps her to relax, although some people might beg to differ

comfort food?

- Her comfort food is her mums homemade soup, whenever she has the time and ingredients she will make it as it reminds her of home and brings her immense comfort

favorite person(s)?

- Athena has multiple favourite people and all for different reasons. Her most favourite person though would have to be rolan. Even though they had a rocky relationship when they first met, Athena was nothing but nice to rolan, she admired the love he had for his family (a value she thinks is very important). They ended up getting together after the fall of the absolute.

After the fall of the brain, Athena went to rolan to catch up and to tell him that she was going back to waterdeep and well Rolan kinda lost it and confessed his feelings for her right then and there.

-Jaheira is another one of her favourite people. Athena views jaheria as a mother figure and was on the verge of tears when Jaheira first started calling her cub. Anyone around could see that Jaheira was very important to Athena and that she was the mother figure Athena wished she still had in her life

*more Athena x Rolan lore cause I’m obsessed with them lol* when Rolan was thinking of asking Athena to marry him, he went and asked Jaheira for her blessing as he knew the importance of their relationship

favored display of affection (platonic and/or romantic)?

- platonic: she loves hugs, especially giving them,

-romantic: hugs, hand holding and kisses on the cheek

fondest childhood memory?

- Playing at the local park with her family just before her parents passed away, it was one of the last times as a family and the last time she truly felt carefree and happy

free-response! Is there anything else about your Tav you'd like to share?

- She LOVES reading, once she opens a book it’s all over, you’ve lost her lol you won’t hear from her until she’s finished said book (that’s mainly cause she actually struggles to read and takes forever to finish) it’s one thing that she missed most while traveling to baldur’s gate as she had no time to just sit down and read for hours

Tagging: @esolean @lanabenikosdoormat @commander-krios @orangekittyenergy and anyone else who’d like to do it! I love reading about people’s tavs